


Only a Little Superstitious

by jarienn972



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2018-12-18 14:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 83,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11876193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarienn972/pseuds/jarienn972
Summary: This is the 2nd of two stories I've started that both developed from the idea of taking Emma out of her new magical comfort zone and making her rely on her wits instead. Here, Emma and a wounded Killian find themselves dropped into the middle of an unknown wilderness when a stranger opens up a portal in the middle of Storybrooke and getting home is more difficult than planned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While I have most of this story plotted out, it is taking me a little longer to update this than my other WIP, The Right Place due to the amount of research this story is requiring to keep details authentic and play around a little bit with some myths and legends. It's proving to be quite the undertaking but I'm enjoying my take on re-writing some pieces of history. I'm posting the first two chapters now, but my first task will be to complete The Right Place so that I won't need to split my focus between the two tales.

**Chapter One**

There really wasn't any way to know where or really even how she was going to land. If this portal worked like the others she'd had the occasion to jump or fall into, they'd end up wherever Killian had been thinking of when he lost his footing and fell. She'd just kept repeating the mantra in her head –  _Bring me to Killian_  – and when her body finally collided with the ground, it was every bit as unpleasant as she'd expected it to be. The earth here was strewn with rocks – a fact she'd learned the hard way as she'd landed face first, scraping her cheek and shoulder on a boulder that the rest of her head narrowly missed, although she wished she could say the same for the bush she'd landed on top of, colliding with several of its thorn laden branches which tore several small holes in her blouse and jeans. Thankfully, the leather of her jacket spared her from the worst leaving a deep scrape in the fabric that would have laid open the skin on her right side had she not been wearing the outer garment.

The sudden hard landing knocked the wind out of her and she realized later that she must have blacked out for a few moments when she suddenly awoke with a start and a single thought: Where was Killian? As she extricated herself from the jagged bush, she scanned the surrounding area looking for signs of her missing husband. She didn't immediately see him nearby, but thankfully, he must have spotted her first as she heard his voice calling out to her.

"Swan?" His voice sounded so distant, but with her ears still ringing with disorientation from the portal, she couldn't exactly be certain. "Are you alright?"

Alright? He was asking if she was alright? Only moments before the portal opened up in the middle of Main Street, she'd watched him take a dagger to the gut and he wanted to know if she was alright?

"I'm fine," she replied, pushing her protesting body up from the dirt as she wiped at her bloodied face with her sleeve.

"You don't look fine," he continued, his voice closer now as she realized he was walking slowly toward her, partially obscured by clumps of chaparral and some dangerous looking pointy leaved plants, some of which neared five feet tall. She could see that he was clutching tightly to his chest, his fingers already slick with blood from the stab wound she knew lay beneath. "You're bleeding."

"So are you," she reminded him, dumbfounded how he could still be so concerned that she had a few cuts and scratches when he was obviously in greater distress. "I've just got a few scratches and a little bump on the head. You're not that lucky," she stated as he reached her.

"I'll be fine," he insisted as she slid her arm around his waist, moving him toward a slab of nearby sandstone where she could get him to sit down. The slight waiver in his voice told her he was anything but fine.

"I don't think so. Sit down here and let me take a look at you," He didn't put up much fight, his body nearly collapsing onto the boulder which was an even better indicator that he was in a great deal of pain and doing a lousy job of concealing it.

"Is your magic working in this land?" he asked. It was an honest question, but she instantly doubted that she could give him the answer they both wanted to hear. She couldn't feel her magic – couldn't will it to surface. Whatever realm they'd landed in, it was one without magic and that meant she couldn't heal his wound.

"I don't think so," she responded, recognizing the flicker of fear that flashed in his eyes. "I can't feel it, but we'll manage… Do you have your flask on you?" He nodded, producing it from the inside pocket of his leather coat and proceeding to remove the stopper with his teeth and take a quick swig before she snatched it out of his hand. "Hey! I didn't mean drink it!" she scolded him. "We're going to need it to disinfect that wound."

"Just attempting to dull the discomfort somewhat," he confessed as he begrudgingly yanked his shirt from the waistband of his trousers and began to unfasten the buttons of his vest. Emma pushed his hand away knowing she could complete the task faster with two hands. "You do realize that I'm perfectly capable of unbuttoning my own garments…"

"Will you just relax a moment?" she glared, scowling at him as he attempted to reach for the flask she'd placed on the flat surface of the rock beside him to free up her hands. "Leave that alone…" He groaned with displeasure, but withdrew his hand, wincing as she peeled back the blood soaked fabric of his shirt to reveal the wound. "Sorry," she apologized, not wishing to cause him additional pain. The wound itself didn't look like much – just a narrow slit in his skin right below his rib cage, but it was bleeding profusely and there was no way to tell how deep it went or the exact path of the blade. "You don't happen to have a handkerchief or a scarf hiding in there anywhere by chance, do you?"

"Sorry, Love. 'Fraid not," he replied. "Didn't leave the house this morning expecting to be run through with a bloody dagger." Well, at least his sense of humor was still intact despite the injury.

"We've got to find something to help stop the bleeding. Need to keep pressure on it…"

"I've been trying to," he assured her, "but it's a tad difficult with only one hand…" She understood knowing that he'd likely landed as hard as she had so she was worried that there might be other injuries she couldn't even see, but right now, she had to think of something.

Since it was already tattered and torn from her entanglement with the barbed brush, Emma pulled the hem of her blouse free of the waistband of her own jeans and tore off the bottom section of the pale peach fabric leaving a strip of skin exposed at her midsection. Had he not been in so much discomfort, the sight of that glimpse of flesh would have been quite the turn on, but he could barely manage a pained smirk as he focused on how to put an end to the ache in his chest. He already suspected the severity of the injury having been run though enough times in his many years to have a decent grasp on his situation. It was a survivable wound, if they could find help rapidly, but the thought that they didn't even yet know what realm they'd landed in wasn't helping.

While he lamented the seriousness of their dilemma, she folded the strip of fabric into a makeshift pad and after retrieving the flask, soaked it with a generous dosing of rum then pressed it into his wound. She tried to ignore her own stabbing of guilt as he hissed and writhed from the sting of the alcohol on the tender, open wound.

"Sorry… Sorry…," she stammered, fearful of pressing too hard as she really didn't want to inflict more pain.

"I'm fine, Love… Just stings a bit…," he lied as the initial shock wore off leaving him with just a lingering burning sensation. "I'll be fine."

"Fine? You're a lousy liar… Keep holding this against the wound," she instructed. "I need to find us some shelter and try to figure out where we are. Those skies aren't looking too promising…"

"Aye," he replied in a hushed tone as his eyes drifted upward to the clouds. There was still blue sky directly above them but out toward the horizon, ominous dark grey clouds loomed. "There's definitely a storm brewing."

"That was my thought too," she concurred, digging into her pockets to retrieve two items – her cell phone and her department-issue handgun. "I'm going to go scout around a bit," she stated, placing the weapon next to him on the rock's surface. "I'll try not to be gone long, but if anything comes near you that's bigger than a jackrabbit, shoot it."

"And what about you?" he asked, still more concerned for her welfare than his own safety. "You don't have magic here…"

"I can manage. Remember, you're the one with the hole in his stomach. You need the protection more than I do. Besides, I can still run. You can't."

"Point taken. Just please be careful, Swan."

"I will," she promised, not really keen on leaving him here in alone but well aware that she could move faster without him. There had to be something in the near vicinity that could provide some shelter from the approaching storm and if they were lucky, provide them with some clues as to their present location. The landscape here was rugged and arid, evidenced by the sparse vegetation consisting mostly of dry scrub brush and plant life that was likely some form of cacti or maybe yucca? The panoramas were vaguely familiar, yet she couldn't quite place why. Had she been here before?

She tried to scope out a perimeter within a few hundred yards of where she'd left Killian, making sure to identify and remember landmarks so she would be able to find her way back. Her knee high heeled boots weren't the best footwear to be navigating the uneven, gravely terrain. What she wouldn't give for a decent pair of hiking boots and a huge bottle of water right now! The sun's position in the sky and her shadow on the ground had to be her guide as she had little else to use for direction. Without a compass, she could only assume that she was traveling southwest from Killian's location and if she was correct – slightly downhill.

She'd begun to circle back when she noticed that on the far side of a row of bushes similar to the one she'd landed in earlier there was a patch of well-worn dirt which stood out in stark contrast to the rocky earth on this side of the brush. She squeezed herself between the brambles to spy what appeared to be an intentionally cleared path and if she didn't know better, she would have sworn it was a hiking path worn through the wilderness. Perhaps this was some sort of roadway between villages in this realm she thought – until an unexpected object gave her the first clue to their whereabouts.

Approximately twenty feet from her was rectangular wooden post about 18 inches tall that had been driven into the ground and bore an engraved number on it – an 8. Emma scrambled over to the post hoping there might be more information on it besides the number and as she got closer, she realized that the number emblazoned on it was actually a decimal - .8 and below it were four almost imperceptible letters – USDF. Why was a wooden post in the middle of nowhere marked with a decimal – a decimal and a bunch of letters? She stared quizzically at it for a moment then it dawned on her – she had been correct in her theory that she'd been looking at a hiking trail and the post before her was a trail marker! Now – which direction?

She followed the trodden path a short distance, until she came to the next marker which was labeled .6. Counting down meant she was going in the direction of the trail head which held the promise of providing more information and perhaps a picnic area or something with a little cover. She wanted to push ahead and see where the trail led, but she'd already been away from her husband longer than she'd wanted to be. She'd go back for him and they'd head down to the trail head together – hopefully getting themselves one step closer to civilization.

 

"Killian?" she called out to him as she neared the clearing where she'd left him earlier, fairly certain that she'd returned to the correct spot, but still harboring a few doubts when she couldn't see him. "Killian? Can you hear me?" She'd been away for twenty, maybe thirty minutes – longer than she'd intended, but she should have known that he wouldn't stay put. She'd apparently mistakenly assumed that he would follow her instructions and stay in one place, but it was looking more and more like he'd wandered off in search of her – at least until she heard his faint reply.

"Emma?" His voice was noticeably weaker which instantly renewed her concern that she couldn't see him as her eyes scanned the clearing, recognizing the boulder he'd been seated on when she'd gone in search of shelter.

"Yeah – it's me. I'm back and I have a bit of an idea where we might be. I found a marked hiking trail nearby. If we can follow it back to the trailhead, it might have signage to tell us exactly where we are and maybe a few clues as to how we can get help," she nervously kept rambling on hoping her voice would draw him back to her, but her anxious mind was getting the best of her… "It's not far to the trail. I think we can make it, but I have to find where you've wandered off to first. I told you to stay put…"

"Over here…," he said a little louder this time and his voice seemed to be coming from the direction of the boulder where he'd been sitting earlier, but he wasn't atop it any longer. She could see smears of blood and his hopefully not empty flask, but not him. "And I didn't 'wander off' anywhere… Down here, Love…" he added as he heard her footsteps draw closer.

"Down where?" She started to ask then stopped as she saw his black denim clad leg poking out from behind the stained sandstone slab. Hurrying over, she found him seated on the dusty earth, leaning against the sturdy sandstone for support. In his hand, he still clutched the crimson soaked cloth she'd torn from her blouse, but it was no longer held against the wound as his arm lay across his thigh. Her pistol rested beside his right hip, the safety still in place. He no longer had the strength to hold his arm up and Emma knew there was no time to waste if they were going to make it down to the trail head. "Think you can walk?" she asked him rather bluntly as she stooped to retrieve her weapon and return it to its holster at the small of her back. With time of the essence, she needed to know, determined to carry him if she needed to. She wasn't leaving him behind this time.

"I think so," he replied, pushing his back into the boulder, using it for leverage to push himself to his feet while she took ahold of his left arm at the bend of his elbow, then wrapped his hooked arm around her own waist before slipping her right arm around his midsection. He wasn't steady on his feet, but he was standing.

"Lean on me," she insisted. "It's going to be about a mile over some uneven terrain." He nodded in understanding, reaching back for the glass flask which he tucked back into his jacket pocket.

"We may need this later," he grinned, getting an icy glare of skepticism from his wife in return. "Don't worry. I didn't partake of a single drop while you were gone."

"Come on. The clouds are getting thicker and the wind is picking up. We probably have less than an hour to find the trailhead and if we're lucky, someplace to hide from this storm…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

She'd expected their trek to be difficult as they made their way toward the trail, but as Killian grew weaker from blood loss, she did find herself nearly carrying him at times. They had been walking for at least thirty minutes but they'd almost reached the end of the trail. As they descended, the trail zigzagged through denser brush, finally opening into a valley where Emma could now see a gravel parking lot and a small log sided structure. Already hearing rumblings of thunder off in the distance, she urged her husband to keep heading toward that building certain that whatever its purpose was, they could use it to escape the approaching weather. There were no vehicles in the lot so the hope that they might get a ride to town was dashed. Any hikers who had been out here must have hurried back to their cars, scared off by the first signs of the storm. Now she just wanted to focus on reaching the maybe 12 foot square building.

"Come on," she pleaded, fully expecting him to lose consciousness at any moment, but he kept trudging on with minimal complaint. He understood her urgency. "I see a cabin or shack or something up ahead. We just have to make it a little further and we can hopefully wait out the storm there…" He didn't verbalize a response but she could sense him mustering every last bit of energy he had to make it the remaining 500 or so yards.

A raindrop struck her shoulder as they crossed the last barrier – the gravel parking lot and approached the cabin. They could see that the structure had a single door, held closed by a discouraging padlock and two windows – one narrow one next to the door and a smaller one high on the building's western side – neither large enough for a person to crawl through. A length of black coaxial cable connected to the cabin's roof stretched upward to a tall, rustic telephone pole – one of a series that followed a dirt road snaking away from the lot. If they could get inside, the cabin must have electricity or a telephone – or better yet – maybe both.

But first they needed to get inside. If she'd had her trusty lock picks with her, she could have made quick work of this. She certainly wasn't a stranger to breaking and entering – and she doubted Killian was either, but lacking the proper tools, she would have to be far less tactful. She pushed her husband up against the side of the building as she drew her pistol, firing directly at the padlock. Her first bullet missed slightly, ending up in the door frame instead, but her second did enough damage to the mechanism that she was able to knock the padlock off using the butt of her gun like a hammer. The latch popped open once the padlock was removed, granting them access to the interior. She turned the handle and cautiously pushed the door, not expecting the cabin to be inhabited, but uncertain what else might be inside. Not seeing anything immediately concerning, she swung the door fully ajar and ushered Killian in just as a clap of thunder echoed overhead and heavier drops began to fall from the skies. She shoved the door closed behind them, breathing a sigh of relief that they'd made it before the downpour began.

The interior of the cabin was sparsely furnished but it had nearly everything they needed right now. There was a patrician oak desk with a single matching chair up against the wall to their left, positioned just under the window. A large map was spread out across the top held in place with a flat glass or perhaps plexiglass cover. To their right, there was what looked like a small kitchenette with a dormitory sized refrigerator built into a row of cabinets which also housed a small sink and a sliver of counter space. Just beyond the makeshift kitchen was a narrow military style cot which was neatly made and covered a blue and white plaid blanket. At the far side of the single room, there were two doors that based on the apparent difference in size of the interior versus the exterior likely led to some sort of storage space or better yet – maybe a bathroom.

"Let's get you over to that cot so you can lie down before you pass out," Emma insisted, but she had to half drag him across the floor when his legs nearly gave out beneath him. She tugged the blanket off before he collapsed onto the rickety bed with a barely audible whimper. She knew she'd pushed him to his physical limits, but she couldn't have left him behind again. As she helped him lift his feet up, it was obvious that he was scarcely coherent, his skin appearing even more deathly pallid in the cabin's dim light. "Hang on," she implored as he lowered his head onto the pillow. "Let me see what I can find around here. Maybe I can find something to get you patched up."

He nodded as his heavy eyelids drooped closed, but didn't reply. She knew she needed to work quickly so she immediately took visual inventory as she made her way over to the desk where she'd spotted an older touch tone dial telephone much like the one on her desk back in Storybrooke and a single metal base lamp with a pull chain. A brief tug on the chain revealed that the cabin did indeed have electricity, but when she picked up the telephone receiver and brought it to her ear, there was no dial tone. It may have been due to the storm outside so she made a mental note to check again later but then her attention was momentarily drawn to the map laid out before her with the words  _Tonto National Forest_ printed in bright red ink across the top of the image. The map reflected a series of roads, hiking trails and what must have been landmarks or maybe even towns?

Tonto National Forest? Why did that sound so familiar?

She didn't waste time dwelling on the map though as her first priority remained aiding her husband. She hustled to the microscopic kitchenette, throwing open cupboards hastily to find most of them unfortunately bare. There were a couple of dishes and utensils inside one of the cabinets so evidently this wasn't a regularly visited structure but she was happy that it at least showed signs of recent habitation. Pulling open the refrigerator door, she was elated to find a stockpile of bottled water – an absolute blessing after their stressful trek down the trail. She removed three bottles and checked to see if there was anything else hiding behind the water, but there was nothing else to be found inside, quashing her hopes there might be some sort of food. At least they had drinkable water. Dehydration was far more dangerous than hunger.

She deposited the bottles atop the blanket at Killian's feet then headed to explore the last remaining section of the cabin – the two doors opposite the entrance. The door closest to the corner was merely a closet containing a single broom and dustpan so she moved on to the next one. This one opened to a more promising little room that was part bathroom, part store room. There was a metal sink with a single knob on the faucet – likely just cold water - and a toilet that didn't have a tank attached. Probably more of an outhouse type than a functioning flush toilet, but she wasn't curious enough to investigate just yet. To the left of the door were a series of wire shelves which like the cabinets in the kitchenette were mostly empty, but there were some items she definitely could utilize. There was a stack of four or five thin cotton hand towels in various neutral colors, a couple of bars of generic soap, one full sized ivory bath towel, a roll of paper towels and the most valuable item – a first aid kit resting on the bottom shelf.

Collecting the first aid kit and a fistful of towels, she hurried back to Killian's side and dropped to her knees beside the cot. She couldn't yet tell if he was asleep or unconscious, but his labored breathing gave her pause as she popped open the latch on the kit and laid it open on the floor so that she could see the contents of both sides. She tossed the towels onto the floor as well, not yet needing them as she glanced through the kit, hurriedly grabbing several individually wrapped packages of alcohol disinfecting wipes, sterile gauze pads and rolled bandages, cloth adhesive tape and even a few single dose packets of pain relievers – all sufficient to temporarily bandage his wound until they could get proper medical treatment.

Her first task was to clean and properly disinfect the injured area properly so she reached for one of the bottles of water she'd left on the cot earlier, uncapped it and then poured a generous amount onto one of the towels.

"Killian – I don't know if you can hear me but I'm going to try to clean away some of the blood so I can bandage this up… It might sting a bit…" He shifted uncomfortably as she pulled back his heavily saturated navy blue shirt and gently started to wipe away both the darkening dried stains and the bright crimson that continued to trickle from the gash just below his bottom rib. He flinched and sucked in a gasp as the chilled water came in contact with his flushed and irritated flesh, but he still didn't say a word. She cleared away as much as she could, leaving the damp towel laying atop his chest while she stretched her arm behind her to grab a dry one from the pile. After swapping the towels, she pressed the dry cloth against the wound momentarily until she could locate a couple of the alcohol swabs. Not wanting to lift the towel until she was ready to disinfect the wound, she held the packet in her right hand and tore the paper wrapping with her teeth then repeated the process with a second. She took the first moistened wipe and used it to sanitize her hands then turned her attention back to him while unwrapping a second. Now this really was going to sting she thought, grimacing as she tenderly raised the towel and touched the rubbing alcohol soaked cloth to his skin.

His eyes flew open and he nearly pitched upright with sudden shock, hissing in protest to the burn of the disinfectant against his raw skin but not crying out in agony as she'd expected. She could feel the rapid pounding of his heart beneath her hand and ached for him as he took several deep breaths, holding each for a few seconds as he tried to calm himself again. He knew she was doing precisely what needed to be done and in no way was attempting to force additional disquiet upon him, but it was still an immense amount of pain.

"I'm so sorry…," she stammered, once again apologizing for circumstances out of her control. "I'm not really trying to hurt you more…"

"I know…," he sighed through clenched teeth, "but bloody HELL that burns…"

"We're in the middle of nowhere right now so as much as it burns, if it keeps that wound from getting infected, we'll do whatever is necessary to keep it cleaned until we can get you to a hospital." As she finished with the disinfecting wipe, she tossed it to the floor with the discarded items then replaced the towel over the still oozing puncture. "Are you able to hold this here for a second?" she questioned. He replied with a subtle nod, lifting his blood tinged fingers and resting them atop the towel. With both hands free, she tore open two of the largest gauze pads and peeled the seal from the roll of surgical tape. She pulled a long section of tape from the roll, tearing it into multiple strips each about five or six inches long and lined them up along the edge of the cot where she could retrieve them as needed. "Hold still," she instructed, gently pushing his hand aside as she flung the soiled towel onto the floor then gingerly replaced it with the two gauze pads and secured the bandage in place with a total of six strips of tape. "Okay – that's done. Wish I could have found you a clean shirt around here though. This one is completely drenched. Do you want to keep it on or take it off?"

"Whatever you think is best, Love…" Great – of course he would leave the decision to her…

"Okay then… Think you can sit up for a moment?" He responded with a simple aye as she slid her left hand behind his back while taking ahold of his hand with her right to pull his weary body toward her. One he was sitting upright, she worked quickly to help him shed his leather coat wishing she had made him remove it sooner as his cotton shirt below was as drenched with sweat as it was with blood. Once the outer layer was off, his vest was easily shrugged off but she found his shirt a bit more of a challenge to remove as it was stuck to his skin in several places. She peeled it free as tenderly as she could then eased it over his brace and hook, finally tossing all three garments to the foot of the cot once she'd gotten him partially undressed. Before allowing him to lay back down, she dug into the first aid kit again for one of the pain reliever packets and ripped it to free the two ibuprofen tablets inside then retrieved the open bottle of water and brought it to his lips. "Here – take these…" He almost reluctantly opened his mouth as she placed the pills atop his tongue then took a small swig of water to wash them down. She managed to get him to take a few more swallows, but she could sense he was struggling just to keep his head up so she lowered the bottle and allowed him to sink back into the thin mattress. "Get some sleep, Killian," she said as she draped the plaid blanket over him then leaned in to kiss his forehead as his eyelids fell closed again.

She remained kneeling at his side for several minutes until she was certain he was asleep, gathering up all of the trash and bloodied towels before pushing herself up off of the floor and returning to the bathroom. She deposited the towels into the sink basin and dropped the trash into an empty plastic pail that sat beneath the sink. She didn't know if it was intended to be a trash can but it would serve that purpose for now. Turning on the faucet, she let the slightly sulfur smelling water run while she retrieved one of the bars of soap and the rest of the towels from the shelf opposite the sink then returned to start scrubbing both the towels and her own hands as well as she could. She knew she'd never be able to remove all of the stains, but she gave her best effort. Guess they'd owe someone some new towels as well as a new padlock.

Now that her hands were clean again, she leaned over the sink trying to get a better look at the cut on her own face which slashed horizontally across the apple of her cheek, but it wasn't deep. She dabbed at it with a clean towel to clear away the dried blood and decided it wasn't serious enough to need bandaging. She was more concerned about her aching shoulder, but she hadn't dared let her husband know how much it hurt. She'd landed on her right side with her shoulder striking that damned boulder which left behind a large abrasion and a darkening bruise that left the joint already stiffening. She'd just have to take a few of those pain relievers herself.

Once she had completed cleaning things up as best she could, she wrung out the excess water from the towels and hung them to dry on the metal shelving where she'd found them figuring she would likely need them again. Returning to the main room, she checked on Killian sleeping fitfully, shivering slightly beneath the blanket. There weren't any other blankets to be found so she draped her jacket across his chest as the lining on his was still damp with his sweat. She couldn't help but notice the smudged kohl that now only deepened the dark circles around his eyes. It stood out in stark contrast to his pallid skin even in the dim light of the cabin.

She wanted to curl up at his side but doubted the cot could support their combined weight so she made her way over to the desk and dropped onto the wooden chair. It wasn't the most comfortable seat but after the morning they'd endured, she was grateful for a place to sit that wasn't a patch of dirt or a slab of stone. She once again lifted the receiver of the telephone but unsurprisingly, there was still no dial tone. The storm they'd barely dodged was raging outside, heavy drops pounding against the window and the apparently metal roof. The desk lamp flickered a few times as the wind howled and whipped the cables around outside, but Emma had little concern over losing power as long as the cabin stayed dry.

She found herself once again drawn to the map covering the surface of the desk. She had time to study it now, seeking out the details that might reveal their location once they were able to call for help. Tonto National Forest she read again, the words echoing through her subconscious with an eerie familiarity. But why? She shook it off for now as her mind raced, preoccupied with replaying the morning's events – trying to make sense of it all. It had been a blur of activity leading them here – wherever here was – and now she had time to think about all that had put them in their current predicament.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little flashback in which you'll learn how Emma and Killian ended up out in the wilderness, but just who they're up against will remain unknown for a few more chapters, although there are a few hints given here.

_Earlier that morning_

Not surprisingly, Killian was up before her. He was always up with the sun – sometimes before – even on days when she'd much rather he slept in but she wasn't even certain if he was capable of it. Stretching as she finally forced herself to sit up, she raked her fingers through her mop of unruly blonde locks and tugged at the hem of her pajama top that had gotten twisted during the night. She could hear her husband in the bathroom connected to their master bedroom humming some little ditty that wasn't familiar to her ears. She tried not to look at the numbers on her alarm clock until her feet hit the floor, but once she did, her brain was instantly questioning the time displayed because it didn't seem like it could be correct.

"Killian?" she called to him. "What time is it?" She hoped he'd know the correct time so she didn't have to get up and go look at her phone right away.

"Not sure, Love," he replied back. Big help he was…

"Crap…," she muttered as she practically dragged herself from the bed to her dresser across the room where she'd left her phone plugged in to the wall charger. "8:15?!" she exclaimed, suddenly fully awake. "Damnit Killian! Why didn't you wake me sooner?" Barreling her way into the bathroom, she practically shoved him out of the way as she headed straight for the shower that he'd apparently just vacated since his exposed skin was still covered in shiny droplets and his damp hair was still partially matted to his scalp.

"Sorry. I must have lost track of time myself," he apologized, although the grin on his face wasn't entirely convincing. He stood at the sink with his straight razor in his hand and a royal blue towel wrapped loosely about his waist – a towel she would have been tempted to yank off of him if they weren't already running late. "Do you have an important meeting or something this morning?" He caught himself casting a glance over at her as she shed her pajamas and stepped under the spray of steaming hot water thankful that he hadn't yet begun trimming the ragged scruff along his jawline just yet.

"We're supposed to be meeting my parents for breakfast in fifteen minutes!" she responded in a huff. Obviously, he'd forgotten…

"Apologies, my love. I thought that was tomorrow." He was sincere this time as he returned to the task of trimming his whiskers while his wife hurriedly showered, bitter with himself that he'd forgotten which day they'd planned this meeting with her parents. His memory was normally far better than this. Perhaps he'd taken one too many patrol shifts this week?

"Forget about it. We can still make it. We'll just have to get dressed quickly," she replied as though she'd read his thoughts. She turned off the water and reached for her matching towel, drying herself off briefly before wrapping it around her torso - before she drew back the curtain to minimize her husband's temptation. Ducking past him yet again, she pulled the first things she could grab from her dresser drawers – jeans, a hip length pale peach blouse, white tank top and bright red socks – not that anyone was going to see those tucked inside her boots. Moments later, she returned to the bathroom fully clothed and found herself reaching around her husband's body to get her toothbrush out of their medicine cabinet. As much as she loved their master bath's vintage white porcelain pedestal sink, at times like this, she really wished they had a larger vanity – maybe with his and hers sinks? "You know, this would be a lot easier if my husband would move his ass out of the way…"

"Am I to infer from that statement that there is something wrong with my arse here?" he taunted, intentionally bumping into her hip as he returned his straight razor to the cabinet. "I seem to recall that last night you…"

"Go get dressed!" she blurted out, immediately cutting off his statement, her cheeks reddening at the memory of their antics from the previous night. "I swear I married a walking distraction…," she laughed as he pressed a kiss into her flushed cheek, responding only with a devilish grin. She shook her head in frustration, turning on the cold water to dampen her toothbrush as she let her gaze drift back to the bed to catch the full view of her husband's afore mentioned backside as he dropped his towel while opening his dresser drawer. "Yep – walking distraction…," she sighed in defeat, trying to think of anything possible that wouldn't make them very, very late for breakfast.

 

Thankfully, they'd made it to Granny's only a couple of minutes tardy so they were able to avoid any potentially awkward questions – not that any of them would have truly embarrassed Killian. He would have been all too happy to drop innuendo after innuendo just for the pleasure of watching the varying expressions on David's face. This morning though, their conversation had remained decidedly tame even with Henry at school and Neal spending the morning with Ashley and it was nice to just have a pleasant, uninterrupted visit.

Which of course meant that things were going a little too perfectly…

It started with Emma's phone ringing then Killian's seconds later, but neither had a chance to answer before Granny's front door flew open and Leroy suddenly stood before them shouting:

"There's some crazy purple haired lady out here trying to open a portal in the middle of Main Street!"

"What?" Emma asked, ignoring her phone with the assumption that it was likely someone else calling to deliver the same message. "What's going on?"

"That's what I'd like to know, Sister, but you're the Sheriff. I'll let you find that out," the dwarf spat out, not really giving her any more information to go on. Killian in the meantime had answered the call he'd received, clearly getting a similar message.

"Emma – that was Regina. She just said the same thing – a woman is heading this way, assaulting anyone and anything that's in her way. I told her we were here at Granny's so we'd try to intercept this woman."

"Purple haired woman?" Emma questioned as she clambered out of their booth and pushed her way past Leroy to the courtyard, not yet seeing the woman spoken of, but seeing flashes of bright light – probably magic. "Who is she? Anyone you know?"

"Never saw her before," Leroy replied, stepping away from the doorway before the crazy lady came into view.

"I've never seen her either," Emma heard Regina say as a cloud of crimson smoke cleared and the Queen came into view. "But she's throwing around magic fireballs like a pro."

"Why does this small town always seem to have so many people we don't know?" Emma muttered under her breath as Killian joined her in the courtyard. "Well, let's go see what she's up to…"

Emma strode confidently into the street with her family right at her heels as they caught the first glimpse of this unknown sorceress or witch - whoever or whatever she was. She didn't really look all that intimidating – small, painfully gaunt with skin that was almost corpse-like – its coloring more grey than Emma had ever seen on a living being. Her hair was an unusual shade of purple – somewhere between lavender and periwinkle perhaps – and it was pulled into a severe bun atop her head. Her black dress and dark violet cape hung shapelessly from her thin frame, but despite her frail appearance, she exuded a disturbing level of smugness and determination. Who the hell was this?

The woman barely slowed her pace even after spotting Emma and her family blocking her path.

"You want to tell me who you are and why you're tearing up our town?" Emma shouted to their unwelcome visitor.

"Out of my way, Sheriff," the woman hissed back, clearly aware of Emma's identity even if they didn't know who she was. "I've waited years to be able to open this portal and you're not going to stop me!"

"No one is opening any portals in the middle of my town without clearing it with me first," Regina spoke up.

"I don't need your permission either, Mayor Mills," the woman replied with a fair amount of disdain, clearly not intimidated by either of Storybrooke's leaders as she conjured a fireball that missed Regina's designer stilettos by inches.

"Okay, this means war…" Regina glared, conjuring up a fireball of her own, ready to launch it from her palm but the visitor was unfazed, continuing toward the center of town clutching what the queen now recognized as a golden scepter in her left hand. She couldn't make out the detail but it appeared to be about eighteen inches long with an round, unfaceted garnet or ruby crowning it. "Well, well… What do you have there?"

Regina flung her fireball toward the woman, only to see it deflected by the sword brandished by a burly man who suddenly stepped between them and the sorceress. Now, who was this? The woman showed no reaction to the man's precipitous appearance almost as if she'd just summoned him same as she'd conjured the fireball. He was a complete contrast to her – tall, stocky and muscular – his moves coordinated and precise unlike her reckless abandon.

"Emma – we'll keep him busy," David offered as his daughter waved her hand and instantly, her father's sword materialized in his hands. Snow's bow and arrow quiver and then Killian's cutlass appeared out of thin air as well. "You and Regina can tackle the one with the fireballs." The prince and the pirate each took a flank – David to the right and Killian to the left to draw the sorceress' apparent henchman away from her while Snow positioned an arrow on her bow to provide cover fire for her husband and son in law. Emma and Regina took similar positions on either side of the witch, blocking her from venturing any further down the street. Even Granny herself had prepared for battle – standing in the diner's doorway with crossbow at the ready if anyone crossed into her sights.

"Okay, buddy," the Prince growled at their strapping opponent. "This is as far as you're getting." The stranger only grinned in response as David aimed the point of his sword at him, raising his own blade in preparation for battle.

The henchman then swung his blade wildly, cutting a wide swath through the air before it collided with the forged steel of David's weapon. This wasn't going to be an easy fight, David thought as the force of the impact caused him to lose his footing, tumbling to the street. His opponent may lack finesse, but he was incredibly strong. Killian immediately thrust his cutlass into the fray before their mystery sparring partner was able to bring his sword down into the prince's back. The pirate managed to hold his ground despite the stranger's physical strength, deflecting the enemy sword long enough for his father in law to roll out of harm's way and regain his battle posture. Spinning around, Killian launched his own offensive attack, cutlass meeting sword once again as he felt and heard the whoosh of an arrow passing his ear.

Snow's first shot unfortunately missed its target as the stranger quickly overpowered Killian, shoving the pirate to the side with his own forward advance. Her second arrow struck its mark though as it grazed the unknown man's hand, inflicting enough damage that he lost his grip on his sword. David scrambled to retrieve it as the weapon flattered to the asphalt, their opponent now howling in pain and frustration. The loss of his sword only seemed to further enrage the brawny man and he surprised the prince by charging unarmed toward him until Killian lunged into his path, halting the stranger mid-stride as the curved, razor sharp edge of the pirate's cutlass was pressed into the flesh of an exposed neck.

"I suggest you stop right there, mate," Killian hissed, eyes locked onto his opponent until a deadly reminder that there was another battle waging across the street had him hopping out of the path of an errant fireball as it left behind a huge crack in the pavement inches from where he'd been standing. Nearly being scorched forced him to divert his focus away from the stranger for a fraction of a second - but it was in that brief moment that his seemingly unarmed opponent found a window of opportunity.

David watched the man reach around his back in that split second that the pirate's eyes were averted but everything happened so fast that he barely had time to shout a warning to his son in law that something shiny and likely dangerous was glistening in the stranger's hand.

"Hook! Look out!" David cried out at the top of his lungs but it was already too late. As the prince looked on in dismay, their unwelcome visitor drew a dagger from his belt and drove it to the hilt into the soft flesh beneath Killian's rib cage. Instinctively, the pirate's hand came up to cover the wound, cutlass dropping from his grip. He stumbled backward a step when the narrow blade was yanked from his body, already feeling the sticky blood flowing over his fingers, but the pain hadn't yet registered – his mind stuck in shock, still processing his momentary loss of concentration.

Her father's exclamation had also drawn Emma's attention as she dodged a fireball, diving out of the way as she caught sight of her husband staggering backward clutching his midsection.

"Killian!" she shouted, no longer caring what the lilac headed woman might be doing. Regina could deal with the sorceress as Emma now had more important concerns – and to her horror, things were about to get far worse…

Because only a few feet behind her injured husband, an approximately eight to ten foot wide swirling portal to god knows where suddenly appeared, covering a broad section of Main Street and portions of the sidewalk where Killian stood teetering dangerously close to its edge.

"Killian! Don't move!" she shouted, springing to her feet and sprinting across the street as fast as her legs would allow. David's first instinct was to drag his wounded son in law away from that portal but instead found himself tasked with keeping the henchman at bay, sword at the ready once again as he heard the ear-piercing screech of the purple haired witch.

"It worked!" the sorceress exclaimed gleefully. "My portal worked!"

"Yeah, well you're not going anywhere, sister," Regina spat, hurling a final fireball that knocked the distracted witch off her feet. Regina then quickly immobilized her adversary with a wave of her hand – long enough for her to conjure the anti-magic cuff and slap it onto the woman's bony wrist. "There – that should hold you while I try to clean up the mess you and your friend have made…" She yanked the golden scepter from the witch's hand before the freezing spell wore off and extended it out in front of her, hoping she could somehow close the growing enchanted gateway, but she'd no idea how to make it work.

Disoriented by his injury, Killian had no awareness that he was standing at the precipice of an expanding portal, struggling simply to maintain his balance. He'd heard his wife's voice shouting his name, but everything was garbled by the time it reached his ears. She was running toward him, presumably to render aid for his wound so he made a weak effort to extend his hooked arm toward her, but as her fingertips brushed the steel, the vortex reached the heel of his boot. With nothing solid beneath his feet, he fell backward and vanished into the abyss. Emma didn't even hesitate as she jumped into the portal after her husband. She might not have any idea where this thing was intended to take them, but she wasn't about to allow Killian to face that unknown alone and wounded.

"Emma!" Snow shrieked, her voice cracking as both her son in law and daughter disappeared through the portal.

"No! No! No!" the sorceress screamed angrily as she watched the sheriff and pirate disappear through the supernatural gateway she'd opened. "That's mine!" Still partially frozen by Regina's spell, she glared at her henchman. "Go after them, you idiot!" she ordered. The stranger gave a glance toward David who stood sword in hand before him, then down at the dagger clutched in his hand. He gave a long, curious look at the blood-stained dagger before tossing it away, muscling his way past the prince to dive head first into the vortex as it began to close.

And then with a clap of thunder, it was gone.

Everyone stood in disbelief for a short time as Main Street was returned to its prior state, save for a few scorch marks and the newly formed crack next to Killian's fallen cutlass. David lingered in silence, admonishing himself for not doing more to prevent this. His daughter, whom he'd fought so long and hard to reunite with and her husband, who he'd come to respect as a friend and even as a son had vanished – lost instantaneously to some far-off realm. He dropped to a knee to retrieve the pirate's sword, but instead picked up the blood-smeared dagger, surprised by its weight and appearance. It didn't seem to be a modern weapon, its handle covered in intricate carvings worn over time and its blade nicked and even rusted in a few spots. It was capped with a jewel that seemed to match the one embedded in the sorceress' scepter but the detail that caught the prince's eye most was the broken point of the blade. At least half an inch was missing from the tip, likely severed when thrown to the street, but David didn't have the patience to look for a severed piece of steel right now.

"Where the hell did you send them?" he demanded, storming across the street to confront the now magicless woman who'd created this fiasco. "Where did that portal take them?"

"To my gold," the witch spat back in disgust. "It should have been mine – all mine!" she rambled.

"What gold? Hell, I don't even give a damn about your gold. Where did my daughter and son in law go?" David wasn't in the mood for anything but a straight answer so when the violet coiffed woman simply cackled in his face, he turned away, fearing he might do something he'd later regret.

"I'll get her to talk," Regina spoke up with a borderline evil grin spreading across her face. "Give me a while with her and I'll have her singing like a canary…" Normally, David might have said no, but this time, he gave Regina his blessing as he stared blankly at his distraught wife.

What the hell had just happened and where the hell did his family disappear to?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the flashback that set up how they came to be isolated on the mountain, Emma starts trying to think of a way to get help and learns they're not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who picked up the hints to this story's villains, I'm giving them my own twist and the reason why I picked these particular characters will come up in a later chapter. There are a couple of legendary tales that I'm working to blend together and hopefully you'll enjoy reading this far-fetched tale as much as I'm enjoying writing it!

At some point, Emma lost track of how long she'd just been sitting there at the desk dividing her attention between the intriguing map displayed before her and monitoring Killian's fitful slumber. She listened to his pained moans and occasional gasps for breath amidst the rumble of thunder and brilliant flashes of lightning. This tiny cabin might be small, but at least it appeared to be well constructed – a fact she was extremely thankful when she gazed through the front window, mesmerized by the rain pounding the gravel parking lot. She didn't even dare think how awful things would have been if they'd been caught without shelter in this weather.

Eventually, the downpour tapered off and the skies gradually began to brighten, the grey clouds pushing off to the east. She was feeling more optimistic now that the storm had passed, hopefully that either the phone service would be restored or that someone would come by to ensure that no hikers had been caught unprepared. It was a long shot that either would happen, but at least they were safe here for a while, even though she was being reminded of the displeasure of her growling stomach that they didn't have any food. She finished off one of the bottles of water, knowing it would do little to placate her hunger but she didn't want to become dehydrated. There wasn't much she could do for Killian though. If they could get him to a hospital, she knew he'd likely need intravenous fluids and probably a blood transfusion, but first he had to survive until help arrived.

Her sight drifted down to the map once again where a red square marked their current position, so she sort of knew where they were. A red box in the middle of a desolate wilderness. Nothing in her knowledge of how magical portals were supposed to work should have brought them here. Neither of them would have been thinking about such a foreign place so why did the portal dump them out here on the side of an arid mountain? That was the nagging question that still bothered her, as did the vaguely familiar names depicted on the map.

_Salt River… Superstition… Lost Dutchman SP_ …

And just like that, something clicked.

They were all places she remembered from her time spent in Arizona… Time spent in Phoenix that she'd desperately wanted to forget.

Somehow, they were back in Arizona – somewhere deep in the Superstition mountains east of Phoenix but how the hell did a portal bring them here? Killian had never been here so this would never have been a location which would have crossed his mind and it certainly wouldn't have been in the forefront of hers. There must have been something unusual about this portal – something that only that crazy plum headed witch might be able to tell them, assuming that anyone could get her to spill her secrets. The only positive note was at least they'd been dropped in a place where getting home would be relatively easier unlike Neverland or some other far off realm. Granted, until Killian was healed enough to travel, even getting back home to Storybrooke from here was going to take a few days at least.

But first they had to get off this damned mountain. With the storm now a safe distance away, Emma tentatively reached for the telephone receiver once again, bringing it to her ear fully anticipating silence, but to her surprise, this time there was a dial tone. She started to dial 911, but stopped herself before pressing the second 1, reminding herself that they were in the middle of an isolated National Forest roughly an hour from the closest major city. 911 probably wouldn't work up here but while logic should have told her to dial 0 to reach an operator who could connect her to the closest emergency services, the only numbers she could find swirling around in her head were those of family and friends back in Storybrooke. Family and friends who were likely worried sick wondering where she and Killian had been transported to.

So, she punched in the digits for a more familiar number and waited – hoping that they'd answer even though it was going to be an unknown number displayed on the Caller ID.

"Hello?" came the confused yet desperately welcome sound of her father's voice.

"Dad!" she exclaimed. "It's me – Emma. I'm so glad I got through!"

"Emma?" David's voice still echoed with confusion, wondering how his daughter was managing to call him. What other realm could she have been sent to that had working telephones? "Emma, where are you?"

"It's a long story, but the portal apparently dropped us into the mountains of Central Arizona."

"Arizona? You mean like the state out west?" she could hear him relay some muffled information to someone else in the background. Probably telling her mother but she couldn't make out all of the voices until he put the call on speaker. "Emma, your mom, Henry and Regina are all here."

"Good," Emma stated, hoping that maybe with all four of them hearing their plight, perhaps they could come up with a group solution. "Maybe together we can all figure out how this happened…"

"How the hell did you end up in Arizona?" Regina asked bluntly.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Emma replied. "You'll have to ask that cotton candy haired sorceress with the gold scepter how she managed to send us here. Maybe she'll shed some light on our current location. All I know is that we got dropped out of the portal onto the side of a mountain east of Phoenix. We managed to find what appears to be a Park Service way station at the end of one of the hiking trails. That's where I'm calling from but we're going to have to find a way off this mountain soon or Killian might not make it…" Her voice quivered with those last few words as her gaze drifted over to her wounded husband across the cabin.

"It looked like he got stabbed right before the portal opened," Snow spoke up. "How is he?"

"Pretty bad," Emma responded. "The wound is pretty deep and it hasn't completely stopped bleeding. He's asleep right now, but I'm honestly getting worried…"

"We found the dagger that our mystery man stabbed him with. Nasty looking thing that if I'm right might be older than Hook himself," David said.

"The guy dropped it after he stabbed Killian?"

"Yeah – right before he jumped through the portal behind you…," David continued.

"He jumped into the portal too?" she lamented. "If he ended up on this mountain, he didn't get dropped into the same place we were. We haven't encountered another person, but I swear, if I see that guy again, I might just shoot first and ask questions later…" Emma insisted.

"Glad you still have some sort of weapon since you don't have magic out there," Snow stated. "Be careful."

"I will be - especially now that I know we might not be alone up here," Emma assured her. "Have you learned anything about these two?"

"She's not talking yet – other than to express her anger over you stealing her gold," Regina stated, "but I'm working on that. Right now, she's locked up down in Zelena's old cell with the cuff curtailing her magic. I'll get her to open up one way or another…"

"Her gold?" Emma scoffed. "What did she mean by that? The thing only gold up here would be the color of the sand and the sun. If her portal was supposed to send her somewhere with gold, she must have miscalculated. Pretty sure this would count as a total failure."

"I don't know, but it's certainly an interesting development considering all her ranting about it," Regina said. "We'll find out what we can, I promise."

"Thanks," Emma responded, pausing momentarily to think. If the man who'd stabbed Killian followed them through the portal, where did he end up? He didn't land in the same clearing they had, but that didn't mean that he couldn't be lurking nearby. That fact was certainly going to complicate things. He knew Killian was wounded because he's the one who'd inflicted the injury so he'd naturally assume that they'd attempt to get medical attention so now, attempting to get him to a hospital might not be the safest option – but neither was staying here. "I might have to rethink a few things on this end…" Emma stated after a few seconds of silence.

"What do you think you're going to do?" her mother wondered. "At least you're still in this realm – could you fly back home?"

"That's probably not a good idea," Emma cringed. "A three hundred year old wounded pirate on an airplane? Even if we could get through TSA scrutiny, I'm not sure I could deal with that trip… I could probably rent a car and drive back but it would take days and right now, I don't think he's strong enough to manage that long of a road trip. We might be stuck here in Arizona for a while…" If she'd felt secure enough to leave Killian here in the cabin, she contemplated hunting down his assailant, but she felt safer staying here with him.

"We'll figure out a way to get you both home," her father insisted, ever the optimist.

"Well, like I said, our first priority is finding a way down this mountain. I'll call you when we're somewhere safer."

"Please keep us updated," Snow urged.

"I'll try – and please, see what you can get out of that witch," Emma reminded them. "Hopefully you'll have some answers when I call next time as to how we ended up in Arizona."

"Oh, I'll get her to talk," Regina insisted.

"I hope so. I'll be back in touch as soon as I can," Emma stated as she wrapped up the call then placed the receiver down onto its cradle, deciding it was time to check on her husband. Even from this distance, she could see beads of perspiration arching across his forehead and noticed his fingers trembling slightly. How long had it actually been since he'd been stabbed? An hour and a half? Maybe two hours? She wasn't naïve enough to deny he was getting worse, but the knowledge that the stranger who'd done this was somewhere on the same summit as them complicated matters, not to mention gave Emma an unnerving, queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had to think of a way to get them out of here and find Killian some sort of proper medical attention that wouldn't draw too much attention. A helicopter would be far too visible even if it was the fastest and probably safest means. By the looks of the gravel parking lot and minimalist road heading away from the cabin, an ambulance, even without lights and siren, was probably out of the question too as this area was most likely accessible only to four-wheel drive vehicles.

The more she thought about it, the increasingly frustrated she found herself. Even with transportation, how could they go to an Emergency room? Hospitals would ask lots of questions – questions that she might not be able to answer and there was of course the concern that their mystery opponent might have ended up closer to the city. Maybe he was already stalking hospitals and urgent care centers… Emma was smart enough to know that a few dollars passed to the right person could provide all sorts of information and it wasn't like the treatment of a one handed man with a stab wound to the chest would be a daily occurrence so they'd likely garner a lot of unwanted scrutiny.

But for the moment, her concerns would have to be pushed aside as her astute hearing picked up the unmistakable sound of gravel being crunched under vehicle tires. Someone was in the parking lot. She listened keenly as the vehicle stopped and cut the engine, followed seconds later by a door opening, then slamming closed. Instantly tensing, she tried to get a look at the vehicle but couldn't make it out from her vantage point. Instinctively she drew her weapon and crouched down attempting to stay out of view as she tried to position herself between the doorway and her slumbering husband who was thankfully oblivious to the potential danger.

She hadn't heard the approaching footsteps but a rattle from the other side of the only door alerted her that someone was testing the latch once held closed by the ruined padlock that now hung uselessly there. The door began to inch open as she awaited the confrontation.

"Who's there?" a male voice called as she caught a glimpse of a law enforcement style service weapon leading through the slightly ajar door. "You're trespassing on Federal Government property…" the voice continued as the door opened further to reveal a tall, slim man in a tan and olive green uniform and wide brimmed hat who seemed somewhat startled to find an attractive blonde woman crouched on one knee beyond the door aiming a gun back at him. "Easy, lady…," he said calmly without lowering his own weapon. "I'm National Park Service Ranger Carlos Littlecreek and you've broken into one of our way stations…"

"Sorry," Emma replied, remaining taut and unrelenting. "Didn't have much of a choice. My husband's injured and we needed shelter from that storm that just went through here. I'll buy you a new padlock…"

"Okay, I don't blame you. If you'll put the weapon away, perhaps I can help?" He raised his open left palm, extending it toward her as he used his right hand to tuck his service weapon back into its holster. "See – not a threat…"

"I'm not trying to be either, but the person who wounded my husband may still be looking for us and I can't take any chances," Emma explained, exhaling deeply as she lowered her own gun and softened her stance.

"Okay then, let me help you. You said your husband is hurt?"

"He was stabbed. I'm having trouble getting the bleeding under control…"

"Well, I see you found our primitive first aid kit," he said seeing the white plastic case spread out on the floor behind her but she hadn't yet stepped aside to let him through to approach her husband. "I can go radio for a rescue chopper…"

"No – no helicopters," she insisted. "That would bring way too much attention."

"You sure? It's not like we can get an ambulance up here that easily…" He wondered if she was being a tad overprotective but her body language spoke for her – she absolutely wasn't taking any chances. "You're really worried about this person following you…," the Ranger said, trying to be as empathetic as possible despite his confusion. This woman was armed and quite obviously knew how to defend herself and yet she was worried about drawing attention to them? Just who the hell were they running from? "Okay, I'll be happy to drive you down to the city, but its gonna take longer that way."

"That's fine. My first concern is getting somewhere safe."

"Let me go radio back to base and let them know I'm aiding some stranded hikers…," he stated. "I'll be right back and then maybe on the way, you'll tell me how you got yourselves into this predicament? You definitely don't look like you were out for a hike…" He pointed at Emma's knee high leather boots with their two and a half inch block heels.

"I'll try, but I'm not promising much... Mainly because honestly, I don't know myself," she replied – and that wasn't even stretching the truth. "Let me see if I can wake him and find out if he's strong enough to walk out to your vehicle."

The Ranger smiled and gave a quick tip of his hat before returning to his vehicle to contact his dispatcher. Emma was a bit reluctant to accept his assistance, certain she was about to get bombarded with tons of questions but her super power insisted she could trust him. He had the authority to simply arrest them for breaking and entering or trespassing, but he hadn't – at least not yet. He had offered to help them even if he might have thought her insane for refusing a helicopter rescue.

She couldn't dwell on that thought right now though as her priority was ensuring that her husband was prepared for a long, likely bumpy trip down to the valley below. She knelt beside the cot and lifted her jacket off of him, tossing it for the moment onto the pile with his stained clothing. Before trying to wake him, she decided to check the bandages and upon peeling back the blanket, found blood was soaked through both layers of gauze so she hoped Ranger Littlecreek would be patient enough to allow her time to change them. She hurried to the bathroom to wash her hands, drying them on the last remaining clean hand towel before returning to the main room to pull the necessary supplies from the first aid kit.

It didn't take quite as long to swap out the gauze as the initial process of cleaning and dressing the wound had taken, but she grew worried when Killian didn't react to the sting of the alcohol. Was he so soundly asleep that he hadn't felt it or was he simply going numb to sensation?

"Killian?" she called as she gently wiped away the sheen of sweat from his forehead with the towel. "Killian – I need you to wake up. A park ranger found us and can give us a ride down to the city, but we need to get you on your feet to get to his car…" She felt him shift, grimacing and groaning from the pain as he stirred.

"Emma…?" his voice sounded deeper than normal as he woke. "How long was I asleep?"

"Half an hour? Maybe longer? I'm not really sure but the storm is gone so it's safe to go out…" She wasn't about to let him find out yet that his assailant had followed them through the portal. "Do you think you can walk outside to his car? I'll help you…"

"Aye," he replied, forcing himself to sit upright while wincing through his own agony. He let the blanket fall to the floor as he swung his feet over the side of the cot, but no sooner had his heels hit the floor, Emma stopped him before he even attempted to stand.

"Hang on – give me your hook before the Ranger gets back," she demanded, her tone rushed as she reached for his artificial appendage, giving the steel hook a brief twist to pop it free from the base. "We're going to face enough questions as it is. I don't want this to trigger any more than necessary…" He nodded in understanding as she tucked it away amongst the heap of leather before retrieving the checkered blanket from the floor and wrapping it about his shoulders to cover the rest of his brace. "We'll just keep you wrapped up in this, okay? I really don't want to fight with your blood soaked clothing right now…"

"This will do splendidly," he replied with a lazy grin but she knew he was deflecting, hiding his anguish behind a smirk. She positioned herself directly in front of him, extending her arms toward him as he stood. She quickly grasped his forearm with her right hand while slipping her left hand around his waist as he waivered trying to find his balance.

"Easy…," she instructed, urging him to lean into her as much as possible. "We'll take it slow…" Lightheaded from dehydration and blood loss, he had to check his balance with every tentative step, relying almost entirely on his wife's strength to keep him from falling by the time they reached Ranger Littlecreek's black SUV with the National Park Service emblem painted across the hood and front door on each side of the vehicle. The Ranger yanked open the rear passenger side door while Emma helped Killian climb inside, nearly having to lift him herself when he stumbled. Once he was safely inside the SUV, she closed the door and darted back inside the cabin to fetch the first aid kit in case they needed it and collect both of their leather jackets, although the air temperature had warmed considerably since they'd arrived here. She also picked up the last unopened bottle of water that she'd removed from the refrigerator earlier figuring as long as Killian was conscious, she'd try to get him to drink more.

"Ready?" Ranger Littlecreek asked her as she came back to the vehicle with arms laden. He was standing beside the front passenger door as she exited the cabin and for a moment, she might have thought he'd opened that door for her, but he reached into the glove compartment instead, withdrawing a combination padlock.

"Yes – I'm quite ready to get off this mountain," Emma replied as she strolled around to the driver's side of the SUV and climbed into the backseat. Once buckled in, she fought to fasten Killian's seatbelt as his head fell onto her shoulder.

"Okay – let me lock up here. You can replace our padlock later," the Ranger grinned as he swapped out the previous lock Emma had destroyed. It only took him a few seconds to secure the way station once again and as he climbed into the vehicle, he turned to face his passengers before starting the engine. "Alright – the closest medical facility is in Apache Junction, but I'd feel safer taking you into Mesa to an Emergency room."

"I'm not sure that would be safe. For all we know, the man who stabbed my husband is already staking out Emergency rooms or urgent care places… I'd rather go somewhere that's off the grid – maybe a private doctor if you know one…"

"Are you sure? I mean, I know someone who might be able to help, but we're not talking modern medical facilities…"

"Please – any place where we won't be asked a zillion questions," Emma insisted.

"Okay, I know a Native healer who can help you out. She's basically a Navajo pharmacist, but she does a lot more for the tribe."

"Kind of a medicine woman?"

"No – not really. She doesn't do all of the traditional rituals and chants. She an herbalist - she blends plants, flowers, spices and stuff to create natural remedies. She'll know what to do."

"Sounds like just the person we need right now."

"Well then sit back and buckle up. The storm washed out part of the road through the arroyo south of here. It'll be a little rough until we reach the main highway."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've been rescued from the cabin and have found an ally, but now Emma starting to face some old ghosts while trying to help Killian and stay ahead of his attacker.

Emma had been prepared for a barrage of questions as the SUV snaked its was down the twisting path toward Highway 60. Most of the terrain they covered barely met the definition of a road, some merely parallel ruts through the dirt and there were a few places where flash flooding created by the earlier intense storm had washed away significant portions of the gravel leaving only mud in its wake just as the Ranger had warned. Killian had lost consciousness about halfway, blacking out when the intense pain of being jostled around finally became too much. She tried as best she could to hold tightly to him while her brain worked to come up with answers to those inevitable questions, struggling to think up with something that would actually made sense – especially when the reality of the situation was far too fantastical to divulge.

"Can I ask you a question?" The first question finally came after they'd traversed the arroyo and made a right turn onto an unpaved service road. "That summit trail isn't the most accessible out here and honestly, neither of you look like you're dressed for a morning hike so what were you doing out there?"

"We weren't out there by choice," Emma replied rather cryptically, trying to be honest without sounding like she'd just escaped an asylum. "We got dumped out there – that's why I'm so concerned that the person who stabbed my husband might still be looking for us. We don't know if we managed to get away…"

"So, you got abducted and taken out to an isolated trail in the middle of a National Forest by someone who simply dropped you out in the wilderness, but left you armed? I mean, I'm assuming that you know how to handle that weapon as evidenced by our blown apart padlock, yet you seem really afraid of this person."

"It's a long story, Ranger Littlecreek, but let's just say that he caught us off guard once and I can't allow that to happen again."

"Any idea why this person targeted you and your husband in the first place?"

"I don't really know," she fibbed, adding a deep, contemplative sigh in attempt to better sell it. "Maybe it had something to do with us taking down his partner or maybe he just has something against the Sheriff's department…"

"Sheriff's department?" now she had the poor Ranger completely baffled.

"I'm sorry – I guess I didn't introduce myself earlier. My name is Emma Jones. I'm Sheriff of the town of Storybrooke, Maine. My husband, Killian, serves officially as my deputy."

"You're a long way from home, Sheriff… What the hell are you doing in Arizona?"

"I wish I knew," she sighed, trying to come up with a response as she ran her fingers through Killian's dark, sweat dampened hair as his head rested against her chest. She would have tugged off the blanket, but she wasn't ready to deal with inquiries about her husband's disability so she'd left him covered up and now he was drenched in his own perspiration even with the SUV's air conditioning running.

"Your husband – he's not looking too good," the Ranger stated, able to see his passenger's slumping form in his rearview mirror. "How did he get stabbed?"

"We were fighting with this guy and his partner – a woman – who were making a scene in the middle of town. I had the woman nearly in custody and Killian was gaining the upper hand on the man until something distracted him. The guy pulled out a knife and stabbed him and when I went over to try to help Killian, the next thing I knew, we woke up out here. No idea how we got here…"

"That has got to be the strangest story I've ever heard," Ranger Littlecreek laughed, almost believing her just out of the sheer ridiculousness of her tale.

"Imagine living it," Emma retorted a little defensively as she couldn't be sure if he was mocking her or if he believed what she'd explained. "I can't explain it any other way…"

"Well, it sure sounds like you've had one hack of a day. Do you think you were drugged or something?"

"One heck of a day is certainly the polite way to put it…" She responded snidely as she clutched her husband's torso closer to her as the SUV maneuvered around a large pothole. "I don't think we were drugged but we were incapacitated somehow."

"Wow – well, as soon as we reach the highway, I'll pull over for a minute and let Grandmother know we're coming to her for help."

"Grandmother?" Now Emma was confused.

"Yes – that Navajo herbalist happens to be my grandmother. She's adapted some of the traditional methods in her work as a healer and just to let you know, she's also a Seer. You can thank her for sending me out to that way station today. She insisted that someone would be up there in need of assistance."

"So, wait – you're telling me that your grandmother knew that we'd be up at that way station?" Now it was Emma who'd become skeptical of a difficult to believe story.

"She insisted I had to head up to the Summit Trail – told me she'd had a vision that someone would be in danger – and sure enough, I find the two of you."

"I think I like your grandmother already," she responded with a tepid smile. "I just hope she'll be able to help Killian…"

 

 

They reached the town of Apache Junction a few minutes later and not long after, Ranger Littlecreek made the turn west onto Highway 60 toward the Phoenix metroplex. Just seeing the city's name on the mileage marker had her stomach in knots. There undeniably weren't many pleasant memories from this place...

Neal abandoning her to face nearly a year in jail for his stolen goods.

Giving birth to the son she'd been forced to then give away.

She'd been so young and so stupid, promising herself she'd never return to this cursed city – yet here she was. She could feel her own hands trembling as she clutched her wounded husband's shoulders. The reaction was mostly involuntary as so many miserable memories flooded her mind, but she had to prove she was stronger – had to push away the past because the last thing she wanted Killian to see right now was her weakness. She didn't dare let him see past those painful cracks in her façade because he needed her to be strong for both of them. Couldn't let him get a glimpse of the insecurity below – the fear of failure and the helplessness she felt at not being able to heal him.

For someone who'd spent the majority of her life not even knowing about magic, she sure felt lost without it.

Killian had barely stirred since they reached the paved roads. She knew he was breathing – she held him so tightly she could feel every inhale and exhale, gradually becoming increasingly labored. Her fingers fanned out across his chest, comforted by the pulsation of his heart. Part of her being wanted to tell Ranger Littlecreek she'd changed her mind and wanted Killian taken to the nearest Emergency room, but uncertainty had her in its grip. There was a dangerous man who might be stalking them - a man who was probably already visiting every hospital in the area searching for a gravely wounded one-handed man from out of town traveling with a blonde woman. She didn't dare admit how much this unknown man had her spooked, but then maybe it wasn't just him she was so afraid of…

She wished that she knew more about this mysterious adversary and his magical partner who'd started all of this mess in the first place, hoping that her family back home had been able to get some answers. She needed to contact them as soon as Killian was stable, provided her cell battery wasn't already dead. It wasn't as though she'd had the foresight to grab a charging cable before getting drawn into yet another villain showdown in the middle of Main Street.

"We're almost there," the Ranger announced. "I'm going to pull off up here in this shopping center and let her know we're on the way. It's only a few more miles – on the other side of Apache Junction just on the outskirts of Mesa." As stated, he turned into the parking lot of a large grocery store, pulling into a space nearest to the highway next to what must have been a long abandoned gas station. He put the SUV in Park but left the engine running as he stepped out of the vehicle to place the call, keeping the air conditioner running as the outside temperature here in the valley was several degrees higher than the mountains. She wasn't sure if he'd climbed out to get privacy as she could still hear the majority of his side of the conversation. "It's Carlos… Yes, Grandmother, you were right… Yes, but it was a couple. The husband is hurt but the wife is afraid to go to a hospital right now… I'll try to explain later, but it's a stab wound – looks pretty bad… I'm not sure… No – he's barely conscious right now… Okay, we'll be there in a few minutes. Hopefully we won't hit all of the lights red on Superstition… No, Baseline isn't usually any better… See you soon, Grandmother."

Ranger Littlecreek tucked his phone away into the shirt pocket of his uniform as he returned to the driver's seat, wasting little time finding an opening in traffic to get back onto the busy highway.

"Will she be able to help us?" Emma asked nervously.

"She's been waiting for me to call and yes, she'll do what she can to help. She's starting to prepare her medicinal concoctions as we speak."

"We really appreciate this, Ranger Littlecreek," Emma insisted. "I honestly don't know what we would have done if you hadn't come along…"

"I don't usually get a lot of excitement in my job and it certainly isn't every day that I stumble onto a predicament like yours. It's typically tourists who wandered off the trails and got lost or have sprained an ankle or things like that. You are a total enigma and as strange as this may sound, I'm intrigued by the mystery. I was the moment Grandmother sent me up to that trail…"

"Honestly, there are times that I'd give just about anything for a little less excitement…" Emma lamented.

"I wouldn't have thought that life would be so exciting back in Maine. Not a place I hear much about…"

"For a small town, things are always happening that keep us quite busy. We just try to do our best to keep the mess contained within our town limits – for everyone's good."

"Sounds like quite the interesting little town," the Ranger chuckled. "Maybe I'll have to come visit some day?"

"It's not exactly on most tourist maps. You'd probably find it to be a little boring. Just a lot of small town folks and trees – lots and lots of trees…"

 

Fifteen minutes and what felt like a thousand traffic lights later, Ranger Littlecreek turned into an older mobile home park somewhere near the Mesa city limits. The place wasn't run down by any means but it was abundantly clear that this was an impoverished neighborhood. They made a few zigzagging turns through the narrow streets before the Ranger pulled into the carport next to a weather-beaten single wide home that had at one time been a sunny saffron yellow but now was faded to the point it was more of a dull, pale mustard hue.

"Hang here for a moment," he instructed as he climbed out of the SUV leaving the engine running. "I'll be right back." He sprinted up the cinder block steps and vanished inside the already wide open doorway while Emma tried to wake Killian. Gently pushing him upright, she listened to him groaning at the discomfort the change of position brought. He wasn't fully conscious when his eyes flickered open but he attempted to focus on his wife's face even though it was clear that the poor pirate was struggling not to pass out again.

"You've got to wake up," she urged him. "We're going to have to get you inside…" She unbuckled his seatbelt as he slumped toward the door which allowed her to pull her right hand free - just as her foot nudged the heap of multi colored leather and Killian's blood-stained clothing on the floorboard allowing a glint of steel hook to peek out. Cursing, she speedily scooped up the pile, untangled her own red jacket and tugged it on over what was left of her blouse, tucking Killian's hook away into a pocket as best she could before anyone saw it.

The Ranger returned seconds later followed by a petite elderly woman whose nearly hip length snow white hair was plaited into a neat braid. Her ruddy skin was as weathered as the siding on her home but her stance was solid and her deep burnt umber eyes were warm and welcoming. She studied the couple for a moment from the bottom step, then barked out her instructions.

"If the man is able to walk, help him to the corner bedroom. If not, call Joseph to help you carry him," she ordered. Ranger Littlecreek carefully tugged open the rear door of his vehicle, mindful that his semi-conscious passenger might tumble out if he wasn't paying full attention.

"Is he awake?" Littlecreek asked Emma, eyeing her with a note of confusion that she was now sporting a leather jacket in 85 degree Fahrenheit heat.

"Partially," she answered him, ignoring the odd look he'd just given her as she gently nudged her husband's shoulder. "Killian? How are you holding up?"

Groggy, yet alert enough to reply, he managed to mumble "I'm okay… Just very tired, Love…"

"I know. Think you'll be able to walk a bit to get inside of the house? This woman is going to try to help you…" He didn't verbalize a response this time, but a slight nod indicated he was going to try. "Okay – hang on a minute… Let me come around to your side…" Ranger Littlecreek took a step back, allowing room for Emma as she clambered out of the back seat and made her way to the passenger side. She leaned in toward her husband and took hold of his left arm just above his elbow as he turned toward her, bracing his hand against the doorframe. He lowered his feet to the gravel driveway as the blanket slipped off his shoulders, falling onto the seat. "Hang on to me…" Emma insisted, keeping her green eyes locked onto his as she guided him to his feet, unconcerned that the fallen blanket now meant that Ranger Littlecreek and his grandmother would now be able to see Killian's shortened, leather brace-clad left forearm.

Killian nearly toppled over as balance failed him, but his wife immediately caught him and wrapped his left arm around her shoulder while the Ranger moved to the pirate's right side to provide some additional support, momentarily sidetracked as he spotted exactly what the blanket had been concealing. Littlecreek didn't comment, but it was clear that he was surprised that this wounded man he'd been told was a Sheriff's deputy was missing his left hand. He almost opened his mouth to ask, but decided to hold his tongue as he didn't want any questions to sound offensive but that didn't stop him from wondering if the man's disability had anything to do with his injuries or whether it was a factor in why the woman had refused to go to a hospital.

He'd barely known this couple for an hour but their story was growing more intriguing by the minute. He just had a gut feeling that discovering the real story was going to be an elusive challenge.

Killian was near collapse by the time Emma and the uniformed man they'd just met helped him to the small bedroom at the end of the mobile home's short hallway. The room was small, barely wide enough to hold the full-sized bed, two inexpensive white particle board nightstands and a five drawer matching dresser so there was little room to maneuver. They'd had to turn sideways to get through the doorway, Emma entering the room first so that Killian's back would be toward the bed but as she tried to turn around in the tight confines, Killian's arm slipped from her shoulder, dropping her husband unceremoniously onto the bed despite the Ranger's attempt to slow gravity's pull. Killian didn't even really care at this point as he was far too fatigued and in too much pain to complain. He also made no attempt to conceal his disabled arm anymore either, shifting his hips so he could raise his feet up onto the bed while trying not to slip back into unconsciousness – at least not yet.

And he barely noticed when the white-haired woman entered the room and began doling out orders once again.

"Carlos – go get the kettle from the stove and a mug from the cupboard. And tell Joseph to bring me my medicine box."

"Of course, Grandmother," the Ranger replied, politely bowing out of the tiny bedroom while the petite woman worked her way around Emma to attend to her unscheduled patient. Every one of her motions were swift and deliberate as she immediately assessed the wound, causing Killian to flinch and mutter something unintelligible under his breath as she removed Emma's bandaging – the tape taking a layer of tender skin and likely a few dark hairs with it. Emma couldn't read the elder woman's expressions as she examined the irritated skin around the puncture, tenderly pressing her fingertips to the surrounding flesh.

"How long ago did this occur?" she asked Emma who had made her way to the other side of the bed and climbed up next to her husband, her right hand entwined with his and her left resting upon his shoulder.

"This morning – around 9AM, I guess, but that was in our time zone… I don't really know exactly. It was hard to keep track of time when we were wandering the mountainside, then waiting out the storm in that little cabin until your grandson got there…" Emma realized she was rambling and cut herself off before she accidentally revealed too much.

"I see," was the woman's only reply as her Park Ranger grandson returned with a steaming copper tea kettle and a white coffee mug that sported a bright yellow image of a smiling sun painted on the outside. She didn't look up to see that he had returned, but acknowledged his presence with another instruction. "Good. Now, please fill the cup for me – at least half full with the tea…"

Carlos nodded and poured a generous amount of the foul-smelling liquid into the sunshine mug, passing it to his grandmother who directed him to give it to Emma instead, not wanting to contaminate her clean hands until she was finished. The Ranger stepped back into the hall once again, returning the kettle to the kitchen stove as he nearly collided with his younger cousin, Joseph, who'd arrived carrying what looked like a fisherman's tackle box. The tall, lanky teen placed the box on the floor at his grandmother's feet and unlatched it for her, allowing the sides to fall open to reveal its contents as he'd obviously done before.

"Is there anything else you need, Grandmother?" the boy asked, pushing his shoulder length jet black hair back off his face as he stood.

"No, child. Thank you," she informed the teen, waving him out of the room with a flourish of her left hand as she lowered herself to her knees to take inventory of her supplies. She began removing several small bottles, plastic baggies and paper envelopes containing a varied assortment of dried flowers, herbs, seeds and potions. A few of them were ones Emma recognized from Regina's collection but many were items she wasn't familiar with. The old woman placed her selected items on the carpeted floor beside her before removing an ancient mortar and pestle and purely from memory, began to combine ingredients into the stone container, measuring by sight and feel until she was satisfied with the recipe. She slowly and deliberately ground the contents into a thick, amber colored paste and once the concoction was thoroughly mixed, she scooped up a generous portion using her index and middle fingers and applied it directly into Killian's knife wound.

Instantly, Emma felt the vice grip of his fingers tighten around her own as he gasped and hissed from what must have been agonizing pain. His breath hitched, his abdominal muscles clenching for what felt like an eternity before he was able to exhale. The elderly woman pressed on with her tasks, ignoring his reaction as she prepped several strips of crisp white cotton cloth folding them into multi-layered squares to re-bandage the wound which was now covered in partially congealed blood and the slimy amber paste.

"Hold this here, please," she instructed Emma, directing the younger woman's hand toward the square folded cloth she'd placed atop the puncture. Emma did as she was asked while the older woman removed a roll of surgical tape from her tackle box. She could feel Killian's heart racing beneath her fingertips, his blue eyes appearing darker as he stared up at her, his grip on consciousness fading quickly. The Navajo woman recognized this as well as she secured the bandages in place and asked yet another favor of Emma. "We need to get him to sit up before he loses consciousness. Can you help him to sit upright?" Emma gently slid her left arm behind his back, giving his shoulders a push forward as she nudged her shoulder behind his to provide support. Once his head and chest were raised to a sufficient height so he wouldn't choke on the tea, the old woman picked up the sunshine mug from the nightstand and brought it to her patient's lips. "Please – drink."

Her tone had been polite but direct and even in his weakened state, the pirate captain recognized an order when he heard one. This wasn't intended to be a choice but the malodorous liquid offending his nostrils was hardly appealing. It was no more or less noxious than some of the potions Emma and Regina had brewed up and hardly compared to the foul substance he and David had once prepared, but then no one had been forced to ingest that one. He crinkled his nose in disgust but gave a weak dip of his chin to indicate that he'd understood the command. Her wrinkled hands tipped the mug toward his mouth slowly until he was able to take the first sip – one he instantly regretted.

"Bloody hell…," he frowned, nearly gagging on the horrid brew. "What the devil is that foul substance?"

"Medicine," the old woman insisted, unfazed by his reaction.

"Medicine?" he complained. "I've tasted bilge water that wasn't as horrific as that…" Emma tried to stifle a giggle, momentarily enjoying the simple fact that Killian's bitching and moaning over the medicinal tea allowed her to forget for a few minutes how grave his injury was. With few options available to them right now, they needed to do whatever was necessary to help him heal – even if it meant drinking nasty potions.

"You need the medicine to try to keep the fever away. It also contains bitter lettuce extract to help ease the pain," the elderly woman pressed, unimpressed by his tirade - her hands not moving the mug away from his lips until he drank more. "Drink."

"Killian, please…," Emma urged. "I know it's awful, but if it will help you get healed, it'll help us get home sooner." His nose scrunched yet again – pouting like a petulant child, but he finally consented to another mouthful of the offered brew, eventually managing a third before he could hold his head up no longer.

"Enough for now," the old woman stated, returning the mug to the nightstand as Emma slid out of the way so Killian could lower his head and shoulders back down to the pillows, his eyelids growing increasingly heavy as Emma draped a faded but still colorful chevron patterned blanket over her husband. Sleep claimed him rapidly, even before she could climb off the bed to tug off his boots which she tossed carefully onto the floor. "You know, it's fine to remove your own coat and boots, child," the elder woman advised. "It's much warmer here than wherever you were dressed for. Please – for the next few days, my home is your home."

"Thank you," Emma responded, smiling as she met the old woman's eyes for the first time, finding them both welcoming and intense at the same time – reflecting a soul that had clearly experienced quite a lifetime. "I don't know how we'll ever be able to repay your kindness."

"That is not for now," the woman assured her, clasping her weathered hands around Emma's. "Now, come – I have lamb stew and bread in the kitchen. You look famished."

"I guess I am," Emma replied with a pang of guilt as she glanced back at her slumbering husband, certain he was just as hungry.

As if reading the younger woman's thoughts, the Navajo woman replied, "He will be fine. He needs to rest and get his strength back first. He has far more concerning things to deal with than hunger."

"Yeah, I guess so," Emma sighed, stooping over Killian to give him a quick peck on the cheek before the elder woman ushered her out of the room to allow him to sleep peacefully. Emma thought for a moment about the woman's comment regarding removing her jacket, but was reminded by the weight of a steel hook pressing against her rib cage that she couldn't do that just yet, so she decided to make small talk until she had a moment alone. "Not only do I not know how to thank you for all you've done, I don't even know your name. Mine's Emma – Emma Jones."

"I have many names. My Navajo name might be a little difficult to pronounce, but my given English name is Sarah Bending Willow. Most people usually just call me Grandmother though. You're welcome to use whichever you are comfortable with."

"Sarah Bending Willow is a lovely name," Emma responded as she stepped into the hallway with the white-haired woman right on her heels. She had no idea how old the Navajo woman actually was, but she was certainly spry for her age. Of course age wasn't exactly relevant when she recalled that her husband had been alive several centuries.

"Come now – get something to eat," the old woman insisted, urging her guest toward the kitchen with a gentle push.

"Thank you," Emma smiled. "Do you mind if I freshen up and check in with my family quickly so they know we're somewhere safe?"

"Of course. The bathroom is the first door to the left here and if you're using a wireless phone, you'll want to go outside. Signal will be better. There are towels and wash rags on the shelf next to the bathtub."

"Much appreciated. I'll be back in just a few minutes," Emma assured her, excusing herself politely as she ducked into the bathroom, taking a moment to wash her hands before assessing her own appearance. She noticed the cut on her cheek had scabbed over. She probably should have bandaged it, but that was of little concern now. She located a hunter green washcloth on the shelf and worked up a good lather of jasmine scented soap to scrub away the sweat, blood and grime from her face and neck, immediately yelping at the sting when she cleaned around the cut. It was a far cry from the misery her husband was suffering through, but it still hurt. She just wouldn't let him know that.


	6. Chapter 6

Emma tried not to dally too long in the bathroom, not wanting to appear rude and be late when invited to dine by one's host. At least she now felt a tad more presentable although there really wasn't much she could do about her filthy blood-stained clothing at the moment. She was quite certain that Grandmother Sarah Bending Willow already sensed she was hiding something by not immediately removing her leather jacket but she couldn't take it off until she was in the privacy of the tiny bath, shrugging it off and carefully folding it to keep Killian's hook concealed within.

Now that they were on the Sun Valley floor, she retrieved her cell phone for the first time in hours knowing she needed to check in with her family and trying to keep a positive outlook when she glanced down to check the battery charge level. 45 percent – not bad considering she'd been out of range of a tower for so long. It would at least give her a few minutes to speak to her parents before she'd have to try to scrounge up a charger somewhere. What surprised her more than the battery indicator was the time displayed – nearly 6:30pm here in Arizona which meant it was after dark back home. Had it really been twelve hours since she and Killian had met her parents for breakfast at Granny's? It didn't seem plausible – unless the portal had somehow altered time for them? So many things made so little sense right now…

She ducked outside with her jacket balled up and tucked under her arm just in time to see Ranger Littlecreek climbing into his SUV to head back to work for the rest of his shift. He didn't have much time for farewells, but he promised he'd check back with her as soon as he could and assured her that Grandmother would take good care of them. Not having had a clock at the way station and pretty sure her cell phone time wouldn't have been reliable up on the mountain, Emma wanted to ask him what time it had been when he'd arrived at the cabin, but she decided to save that for later. Her story already sounded like the ramblings of a crazy person. Why add fuel to that fire?

So, she kept her question to herself and instead tapped the speed dial number for her father's phone.

"Emma!" her father answered a little too enthusiastically. "I'm so glad you found a way to call back. Are you okay?"

"Dad, I'm in Arizona, not another realm. Just had to get to a place with cell phone service. And to answer your question, we're fine for now. A Park Service Ranger found us and brought us down to the home of his Navajo grandmother who was kind enough to treat Killian's wound with some natural potions and herbs. He's sleeping again now…"

"Why didn't you go straight to a hospital" David sounded confused at her decision.

"Honestly, Dad, I was a little bit afraid to. When you said that the man who stabbed Killian followed us through the portal, all I could think of is that he's already hunting for us. The first place I would start searching would be hospitals and urgent care locations and until we know more, I just couldn't take the chance that this mystery person would think the same way. Have you learned anything more about this pair that started this mess?"

"Not yet. Regina hasn't gotten back in touch with us yet, but knowing her, she'll get a name out of our prisoner. Hopefully, we'll hear from her by morning."

"Okay. Call me or text me as soon as you know anything. I've got to try and find a charger for my phone and maybe some clean clothes if I can get to a store around here, but please, let everyone back home know that for now, we're safe."

"Try to stay that way," David insisted. "I'll call you as soon as we know anything else."

"Thanks, Dad," she said as she disconnected the call just as a grumble from her stomach reminded her that their gracious host had offered dinner and she wasn't about to decline that offer.

* * *

She hadn't thought of herself as being that ravenously hungry until she'd completely devoured the offered bowl of stew and a piece of bread that she could only describe as a thick, puffy tortilla that had been flash fried in oil. It was warm, crispy on the outside and chewy inside and was a perfect accompaniment for the savory stew - so good that it had her desperately wishing to ask for seconds but she didn't want to appear greedy or disrespectful.

"I honestly wish there were words to describe just how much we appreciate everything you're doing for us, Grandmother," Emma thanked her.

"It is my honor to provide my meager services to someone who has been so dedicated to helping people," the elder woman replied with a humble smile causing Emma to nearly choke on her last bite of fried bread. Just what exactly did this woman know about her?

"I've helped a few people get through some tough scrapes…"

"You chose to become Sheriff," Grandmother explained her earlier words. "I'm sure your decision to enter law enforcement has aided many?"

"I guess," Emma deferred. "I suppose I've never really thought of it that way." Okay – it was about her being a Sheriff, not a savior.

"You're allowed to take pride in what you do. A little bit of pride isn't harmful." Emma had to stifle a chuckle at the old woman's advice. If only she knew what her work really entailed.

"Thank you for the advice. I'll have to keep that in mind the next time I'm dragging a drunk out of the alley behind the Rabbit Hole," she responded with a wide grin as the elder woman began clearing dishes from the table. "May I ask you a question though?"

"Of course, child. You may as me anything – except my age." Grandmother said with a sly smile on her lips.

"Your grandson said that you'd had a vision of someone needing help up on the mountain and that you'd been the one who sent him up to that way station earlier. Is that really how he managed to find us?"

"I used to see things all the time, but it has been many, many years since a vision has been so clear. I saw someone in distress near the summit trail so I asked Carlos if he would go there. He humors my eccentricities at times, but this time, I'm pleased that he listened to me."

"So are we. I don't know what we would have done if he hadn't come by… Would the man who attacked us have found us first or worse yet, would Killian have bled to death because I was too stubborn to call for help?"

"But those things did not happen. For now, you will be safe here, but I warn you that there is only so much I am able to do. I don't wish to frighten you but I am worried that the bleeding will not stop. The trouble is we only see what is on the surface, but below – below, I fear may lie a greater threat."

"What do you mean by that?" Emma wondered, a chill suddenly finding its way up her spine at the Navajo woman's mysterious choice of words.

"There is no way for me to be certain, but I fear that a piece of the blade used to stab him remains within…"

"Wait...," Emma gulped, all of her senses instantly heightened. "You think part of the knife might have broke off when it struck something inside his chest?" She didn't want to believe it. She knew her father had found the dagger after it had been dropped, but why wouldn't he have mentioned it was broken? Did it not occur to him how important that miniscule bit of information might be?

"I obviously cannot verify that. It is merely a feeling that I have."

"I'm inclined to believe that your 'feeling' is probably correct," Emma sighed, weary from exhaustion and a day filled with worry. "My father found the knife that Killian was stabbed with, but he didn't tell me it was broken. I suppose he assumed it happened when the attacker dropped it, but my gut believes you."

"I would prefer that not to be the case as it only makes the situation more grave for your husband. Every time he moves, that piece could shift position, inflicting additional damage - so, until it can be removed, his life remains in jeopardy."

"Story of our lives…," Emma muttered under a deep frustrated breath.

"You look completely exhausted, child. Why don't you try to get some rest while your husband sleeps?"

"That honestly sounds like a wonderful idea."

"Then go. You will need the rest as much as he does. Just promise me that when he wakes, you'll have him drink more of the tea. It may not be the most pleasant substance, but it is brewed from plants with antibiotic properties to hopefully prevent infection and the pain reliever it contains will also help him greatly."

"I may have to give him a rum chaser," Emma replied with a tepid laugh as she stood up. She collected her folded jacket from the chair beside her where she'd carefully placed it before sitting down to dinner, her body already screaming for a nap. "I'll make sure he drinks it though. This has been such a long day…," she mumbled as she withdrew her phone to turn it off, hoping to conserve the remaining battery until she could locate a charger. "You know, I really hate to bother you with this but you wouldn't happen to know where I could get a charger for my phone? I didn't exactly have the foresight to shove one in my pocket this morning…"

"I'm sure my grandson would know. I'll have him check to see what he has lying around."

"Thank you," Emma replied then before she could excuse herself, the elder woman reached out to grasp Emma's right hand, squeezing it tightly between both of hers.

"Perhaps we will soon learn the reason you were brought to us," the Navajo woman stated cryptically, a sentiment that rung in Emma's ears long after the words were said. She'd smiled politely and nodded, perhaps too tired to discern the meaning behind the odd gesture and statement. She understood that it was intended to be encouraging, but in reality, it left Emma slightly unsettled as she made her way down the narrow hallway clutching her jacket to her chest.

Trying not to disturb her husband, she pushed the door open slowly, then closed it behind herself before perching on a corner of the mattress to finally unzip and remove her boots – an act in which she took a likely unhealthy amount of pleasure completing. Wiggling her now freed sock clad toes, she heard a soft rap on the door. She padded over to the door and opened it to see the dark haired, hazel-eyed teen she'd briefly met earlier standing in the hallway with a handful of assorted cables.

"Hi," he said timidly. "Grandmother said you needed something to charge your phone. I didn't know what kind…"

"Hi, Joseph. That's partially my fault. I didn't really specify. Let's see if you've got one that matches…" She showed him the charging port on the bottom of her device and together they narrowed his collection of cords down to the proper one. "Thanks so much! I'll return it to you in the morning…"

"That's okay. You can keep it as long as you need it. My new phone uses a different one now."

"Thank you," she smiled as he walked away and she quietly closed the bedroom door again to get a little privacy.

The double bed took up most of the room so it required a bit of contorting on her part to reach the electrical outlet behind the nightstand, but it was worth the challenge when she saw the word "charging" appear on her screen. She dropped her jacket onto the floor next to her boots and started to unbutton the tattered remains of her blouse when she heard a weak, raspy "Swan?" from the bed behind her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized as she carefully sat back down on the bed, this time beside him, trying not to jostle it too much. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I don't mind. I'm still quite tired…"

"Well, I hate to do this to you, but while you're awake, I'm supposed to have you drink more of the tea sitting here…"

"Bloody hell, Swan… I'm already wounded. Do I have to be poisoned as well?" Much to his disdain, his wife simply rolled her eyes, unmoved by his protest.

"It can't be that bad," she insisted, shaking her head as she lifted the mug of the now cooled liquid from the nightstand. It did have a rather strong, earthy odor to it, but it didn't really seem any worse than the untold number of potions she'd encountered since learning about magic. "Some of the concoctions that Regina has brewed up have been far worse than this – and this one has an antibiotic that you need. The wound is probably already infected since we couldn't exactly treat it properly right away."

"It's a good thing that I'm too fatigued to put up a fight," he relented, pushing himself into the most upright position he could manage without sending further bolts of pain radiating throughout his chest. Emma tried to guide him and urged him not to move so quickly.

"Easy – not so fast… The bleeding has finally slowed. We don't want anything to open back up…" She wasn't about to inform him that he might have a razor-sharp fragment of the dagger embedded inside his chest just yet though. She slid her arm around his shoulders to support him as best she could while she brought the mug to his mouth, allowing him to take a tentative sip. He grimaced as soon as the liquid hit his tongue, but she wasn't going to let him stop there. "It's going to take more than that…"

"Easy for you to say…," he grumbled as he begrudgingly took another mouthful of bitter tea, but that second swallow was all he could stomach, his face suddenly blanching as he was struck by a swell of nausea. "I'm sorry, Love… I cannot…"

"It's alright," she assured him, placing the mug back onto the nightstand before helping to ease his head back down to the pillows beneath him. "How about we both get some sleep and we'll worry about that in the morning?"

"There'll be no argument from me…," he whispered, the pain and fatigue already taking their toll on his lucidity. She made her way around to the other side of the bed, curling up beside him after turning off the bedside lamp, not even knowing which one of them drifted off to sleep first.

* * *

Morning came in the form of a bright light filtering through the curtains on the window above her head providing a rather rude interruption to Emma's dream. Blinking awake, she couldn't yet make out the time displayed on her phone but she guessed it was early based simply on how quiet it was around her. She could make out the slow, shallow breaths of her still sleeping husband beside her, noticing that at some point during the night he'd jettisoned the blanket off as it now lay in a crumpled heap at his feet. She wondered if he'd simply gotten too warm, which was highly likely considering the beads of sweat that glistened across his forehead and down his neck.

Leary of waking him, she sat up unhurriedly, contemplating whether or not she should take a moment to inspect his wound. She conceded that even if she did inadvertently awaken him, he'd be less bothered by the fact that she did so tending to his injury. He recoiled slightly as she peeled back a strip of the cloth tape holding the bandages in place, but he didn't stir. Beneath the layers of bloodied cloth, the edges of the puncture were still an angry red and the darkened appearance of the surrounding skin had her concerned. As much as she feared his unknown assailant locating them, she knew she might have to rethink her decision soon – especially with the knowledge that a broken piece of the dagger might still be lodged inside his chest cavity. She tried not to think about how much internal damage might have been inflicted while they were hiking down the mountain trail. Had she unintentionally caused him irreparable harm by forcing him to suffer through all that additional motion? Had her decision to not immediately get him medical attention endangered his life?

She buried her face in her hands as all the thoughts overwhelmed her, but she didn't allow herself to dwell on them. Pulling her head back together, she gently replaced the dressing over his wounded skin and tugged the blanket back over top of him. She tenderly caressed his cheek, her fingertips sensing his slightly feverish temperature as he turned his head toward her, seeking out her touch. His chest heaved as he drew in a deep breath, but she watched his face immediately contort as he grimaced through the obvious discomfort that even the simple act of breathing brought on.

"I'm sorry…," she whispered as the pad of her thumb absentmindedly traced the scar across his cheek, pausing when she reached the corner of his mouth. She hesitantly withdrew her hand, knowing she needed to let him rest, but she felt so listless – forcing herself to set her feet upon the floor and stand before finally managing to slip silently out of the door into the hallway.

She wasn't at all surprised that Sarah Bending Willow was already awake, rustling about the kitchen likely preparing breakfast. When Emma walked in, the older woman was scooping up a spoonful of a substance that looked like oatmeal, dropping it into a cast iron skillet and frying it a golden brown. She might not have known what exactly was being cooked, but the aroma was delectable, smelling of vanilla and something resembling popcorn?

"Come," her host invited her to the table as she noticed Emma lurking at the end of the hall. "I'm making sweet corn fry cakes and I've brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Mugs are in the cupboard right above the coffee maker so please – help yourself…"

"Thanks," Emma replied, taking quick strides directly toward the coffee pot, grinning as she opened the cabinet door to see the old woman's eclectic collection of mugs. No two were alike yet there was clearly a coherent theme – celestial objects. Suns, moons, clouds and even a few planets graced the exteriors of the ceramic and plastic mugs. Selecting one with an image depicting the big dipper constellation, she filled it two-thirds of the way with the steaming hot liquid and added just a splash of cream from the tiny pitcher next to the pot.

"I hope you slept well," the old woman said to her as she continued uninterrupted making the little cakes. "Your husband is still resting?"

"I slept quite well considering and yes, Killian's still asleep. I tried hard not to wake him while I took a quick peek under the bandages. It's looking really red and seems darker around the edges."

"I will mix up more of the medicine, but skin discoloration isn't uncommon with the turmeric and clove used in the mix. Were you able to encourage him to drink any more of the tea?"

"Only a few sips, but then he started to get nauseous so he stopped and went back to sleep."

"Very good. I know it isn't the easiest to swallow, but it is good for him."

"Most medicine isn't particularly easy to swallow," Emma smiled as she took a seat at the table, sipping the still too warm beverage. "And he tends to be rather stubborn when it comes to taking medicines anyway. Rum is usually his answer to everything."

"My guess is that his obstinance has served him well," Grandmother stated with a knowing smile as she flipped two of the corn cakes onto a plate and delivered them to the table, sliding them directly in front of her guest. "It seems to me that your husband has a very old soul – and an oft-troubled one at that."

"I guess you could say that…," Emma replied, almost sheepishly, not wanting to let on exactly how old of a soul Killian actually possessed. The old woman simply nodded at her response while reaching in to an open drawer behind her to fish out a fork.

"Now – eat," the elder woman insisted as she passed the fork to Emma's hand. "There is butter on the table and I can get you some agave syrup if you prefer them sweeter…" Emma cut off a small morsel with the side of her fork to get a taste of the creation, realizing that they were essentially a sweeter, crispier version of cornbread – and that they were delicious.

"Don't need to add a thing!" Emma gushed, both in response to the flavor and toward this woman's generosity. "These are amazing! I'll have to get the recipe from you because my family would love these."

"Ancient Navajo secret," Grandmother stated, seriously at first, but rapidly breaking into a wide grin. "No – not exactly… I've modernized my recipe with instant grits but don't tell my grandson that. Beats the hell out of grinding all that corn." Both women shared a hearty laugh as Emma finished up her breakfast while Grandmother continued frying more until the batter was finished. "Carlos will be stopping by soon for breakfast as well. He does every morning before heading out to the mountains."

"Seems like a pretty lonely job – just driving around a National Forest all day."

"It is sometimes, but he loves it. He says it allows him time to connect with the mountains – with our heritage and ancestors. The land you now know as the Superstition Mountains and the Tonto National Forest holds many sites sacred to the tribes. This land was once rich with magic, but not so much anymore. Centuries passed, beliefs changed and the magic left."

"Maybe it's still out there somewhere?" Emma suggested. "After all, some sort of magic did lead you and Carlos to find us…"

"I would like to believe that it is," the old woman replied with a noticeable hint of sadness. "Do you believe in magic, child?"

Emma had to pause before attempting to answer the question, not exactly certain of how much she should say on the subject.

"A few years ago, I would have said no, but then something changed. The son I'd given up for adoption found me and led me to a place where I was able to reconnect with my parents and then Killian unexpectedly came into my life. They all brought me the greatest magic of all – true love – so I guess you can say that I do believe in magic."

"It makes my heart stronger to know that someone does still believe. There's too much cynicism in our world today. The magic won't return if no one believes…" The old woman turned away as if she didn't wish for her guest to see the melancholy present in her eyes.

"Is Grandmother giving you her 'believe in magic' speech?" a voice asked as the mobile home's front door swung open and the tall, uniformed figure of Ranger Littlecreek stepped through, taking the same path directly to the coffee pot as Emma had earlier.

"Ignore him," Grandmother scoffed. "He will believe one day as well. He just needs the right person to guide him to the truth."

"I think I can relate," Emma responded with a half smirk curling on her lip.

"I may not know much about magic but I know a thing or two about helping out my fellow law enforcers," Carlos stated as he filled an oversized mug with coffee and then added a generous amount of cream and a heaping spoonful of sugar. "We keep a couple of storage bins full of donated clothing to help out lost hikers, wildfire victims and the like. It's nothing fancy, but I gathered a few things for you and your husband. I figured you might like to shower and change into some clean clothes. Hopefully I grabbed the right sizes too."

"I'm thankful for anything that's not caked with mud and soaked in sweat," Emma replied. "And I'm pretty sure Killian will appreciate anything not covered in dried blood."

"I thought you might feel that way. Bag's out in my truck. I'll go grab it for you and I'll bring in your husband's jacket that you left in my back seat too," he sat his royal blue mug with its bright yellow crescent moon image onto the kitchen counter and headed back out to his vehicle, returning seconds later with a jet black nylon backpack slung over his shoulder and Killian's balled up leather jacket tucked under his arm. He dropped everything onto the chair beside Emma and strolled over to retrieve his coffee while she surveyed the contents. Inside, she was surprised to find a couple of men's and women's tee shirts, two pair of basic black women's leggings and a pair of charcoal grey men's sweat pants. At the very bottom of the backpack, she even found a pack of unopened women's panties and two pair of men's boxer shorts with tags still attached. It was honestly far more than she'd expected.

"This is wonderful. Thank you so much," Emma said graciously. "I hate to keep saying this but I really don't know how to repay the kindness both of you have shown us."

"No payment is necessary," Grandmother insisted. "Now, if you would like to go bathe, I'll check on your husband."

"I would love that," Emma smiled, incredibly grateful for the change in their luck that led them to these amazing people, but they still had a long way to go, something she was instantly reminded of with the Ranger's next question.

"Quick question for you first, Sheriff – the man you think is hunting you – do you have a description of him?"

"I never really got a good look at him, but he was definitely over 6 foot tall, very stocky build – not overweight but just big. I know he had dark hair but that's about all I can tell you right now."

"That's fine. When you mentioned that someone might be out there stalking you, I checked in with a few colleagues last night for reports of unusual activity in and around the Superstition Mountain trails and found a report of a vehicle stolen from another trailhead approximately 10 miles from the way station you were in. Vague description given was a large, dark-haired man but the owner who witnessed the theft was too far away to do any better."

"Ten miles seems like an awful lot of distance away from us, but the man's description sounds close enough. About what time did that happen?" Emma wondered.

"The theft occurred just before the storm – reported approximately 12:30pm when the owners were heading back to their vehicle. Another hiker on the same trail gave them a lift down to the Ranger Station."

"Wait – 12:30? That was before the storm?" Emma was confused as it hadn't been that long after they'd dropped out of the portal and Arizona time was earlier than Storybrooke's… The timeline couldn't be right...

"Up there, yes. Storm rolled through about quarter to 1," Carlos replied. "If this is your guy, he was down here in the valley more than an hour before I found the two of you. The vehicle was found this morning near the bus depot in downtown Mesa. Unfortunately, their security cameras didn't pick up the vehicle when it entered so we didn't get an image of the guy to know for sure."

"Sounds like this guy knows what he's doing," Emma sighed. Odds were that this was the man who'd followed them from Storybrooke but where was he now? He could be absolutely anywhere in the Phoenix area by now which made her even more anxious to find a way home, but it was going to be a while before Killian would be able to make that trip – not without another magical portal opening up at least.

"Do not worry about this man right now," Grandmother told her. "He is not here and would not know to look for you here. Go and get yourself cleaned up. All this talk will wait for later."


	7. Chapter 7

Emma found herself faced with a twinge of guilt as she indulged in hot water and shampoo while Killian was still clad in yesterday's blood and sweat-soaked clothing. She showered quickly and dressed in one of the outfits Ranger Littlecreek had brought – a cobalt blue tee shirt and the black leggings. The tee was a little roomier than she typically preferred, but surprisingly, the rest of the items fit well which had her wondering exactly how much time he much have spent observing people to be that good at guessing their clothing sizes.

She'd expected the ranger to have left for work by this time, but he was still seated at the kitchen table chatting with his grandmother, presumably about their visitors. Carlos spotted her as she stepped out of the bathroom, heading toward the kitchen with the intention of warming up what was left of her coffee.

"I thought you'd be on your way up to the mountains by now," Emma said as she made her way around the table to the counter.

"Not yet. I sent out a broadcast to all local law enforcement and area Emergency facilities to be looking out for someone asking questions about a wounded one-handed man and a blonde woman. The advisory states to contact law enforcement if you are approached by this person of interest."

"Any reports yet?" Emma wondered, knowing that Killian's attacker had a half-day jump on them.

"Had a couple of Urgent Care centers report a man with a lot of questions, but nothing concrete yet and he's managed to remain mostly off security cameras. Most of those places are just too busy to remember specifics and clearly, your guy knows it. But it definitely validates your belief that he would try searching you out. Good call."

"I'll feel a lot better once we've identified and captured him. We can't stay here forever…" Emma responded as she refilled her mug but she wasn't going to have a chance to drink it as their conversation was interrupted by a loud thud and the sound of something shattering – something like a dish or a glass…

Or a mug…

"What was that?" Carlos wondered, instantly on his feet and taking a defensive stance but Emma was already well aware of what the sound may have been.

"Killian," was all she said as she abandoned her mug on the counter and hurried to the end of the short, narrow hallway and threw open the bedroom door to find her husband barely conscious on the floor beside the bed. The nightstand lay overturned atop his right arm and shoulder as though he had attempted to use it for leverage to pull himself up but found it wasn't sturdy enough sending the ceramic sunshine mug tumbling to the floor with him. Its remnants were scattered around his head, a few caught in his hair and the remaining contents were soaking into the berber carpeting. "Killian! Are you okay?" she demanded as she climbed across the bed to lift the nightstand off of him, handing it to Carlos as he arrived just behind her.

"I don't know…," Killian stammered, evidently stunned by the fall and having likely struck his head on the nightstand. "I woke up and you weren't there… 'Couldn't get my legs to move…"

Emma extended her hands toward him to help get him back up onto the bed, but Grandmother stopped her.

"No – don't move him," she insisted, squeezing her petite frame into the space between his legs and the wall. "Carlos – call the paramedics. I know this isn't what you want, Emma, but we're going to have to get help." The elder woman took a moment to assess her guest's condition, noting a trickle of bright red blood trailing across his bare abdomen.

"Its okay – I understand," Emma sighed, reaching down to take ahold of her husband's hand. "Try not to move," she urged as she squeezed his fingers tightly. "I'm so sorry. We should have taken you straight to a hospital…"

"The decision was partially mine," he reminded her. "It was a risk I took willingly…" Killian flinched as the white haired woman peeled away the bandages from his chest, shaking her head as she saw the amount of crimson blood soaked into the cotton fabric.

"It may have been too big of a risk," Emma told him, deciding that he should be informed about the potential danger that Sarah Bending Willow suspected. "Killian, we don't know for sure, but Grandmother believes that a piece of the dagger you were stabbed with might have broken off inside your chest…"

"There may be a razor sharp piece of metal lodged inside me?" he questioned, unsure if he'd heard her statement correctly or had imagined it.

"It is very possible," the Navajo woman advised. "An X-ray would be needed to confirm it, but all of my spirit guides insist it is there and it is very likely what is causing your present symptoms." Killian sighed deeply at this latest revelation, averting his eyes so he wouldn't have to witness any of his wife's guilt-ridden tears – not that any of this was her fault. "Are you able to still feel, just not move your legs?" the elder woman asked him just before giving his thigh a sharp poke with her index fingernail.

"Aye," he replied, slightly irked that she hadn't given him time to respond before prodding him. "I still have sensation but cannot will either leg to comply…"

"That's good, isn't it?" Emma asked the old woman. "If he can still feel then it isn't paralysis, right?"

"It is hopeful," Grandmother replied, "but there may still be damage we cannot see from the outside." She replaced the bandages covering the wound, certain that the paramedics would need to assess the injury themselves when they arrived. "He will need a surgeon to determine the extent. I've done as much as I am able."

"Ambulance is about five minutes out," Carlos informed them upon returning to the room. "I gave them a brief overview of the situation and they said to treat it like a spinal injury – no moving."

"I've no intention of that…," Killian said as he felt his eyelids growing heavier, the pull of the pain-free oblivion of unconsciousness lulling him toward the blackness and he couldn't stop himself from giving in.

* * *

Everything after that was a mere blur. The paramedic unit that Ranger Littlecreek had summoned arrived promptly, which meant that Carlos and Emma had little time to get a cohesive cover story together. They knew they'd face a plethora of questions so the ranger proposed a tale that relied partially on actual events but hopefully sounded more believable. They would say that Emma and Killian had been hiking when the storm hit. While trying to find shelter, Killian slipped and fell, accidentally stabbing himself with the utility knife he'd been carrying. The couple had taken refuge in the remote Ranger station – although Carlos insisted that she say that they'd found it unlocked not that she'd shot the lock off since most hikers didn't carry handguns with them. The Ranger had found them stranded there this morning and believing that Killian's wound wasn't too serious, he'd brought them to his grandmother, a well known Native herbalist for assistance, but Grandmother had determined that the injury was far worse than they had thought so he'd called the paramedics.

There were obviously still a number of holes in the story, things that couldn't be explained by their short tale, but it was good enough to start. Emma could always pretend she couldn't recall the exact details because she was so focused on aiding her husband. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do. The biggest thing they had to contend with was the fact that they were now heading to a hospital that had earlier been warned of someone asking questions about a one-handed man accompanied by a blonde woman and now here they were. It was bound to raise a few eyebrows but Carlos insisted he'd handle it. He was having Killian taken to Mesa General, not just because it was close by, but because he knew the head of Security there and having a friend in the loop would help cut down on the inquiries.

The paramedics didn't ask a whole lot of questions about how they'd arrived at this point, more concerned with how long ago Killian had been stabbed and what Emma and Grandmother had each done in attempt to treat the wound. The elder woman provided them with a brief rundown of the substances she'd used in both the topical paste she'd applied to the wound and in the tea she'd brewed to help stave off infection and provide him some relief from the pain. Neither of her preparations may have been enough though as the paramedic assessing Killian's vital signs registered his temperature at 102 degrees – not dangerously high but a fairly definitive indication that his body was likely fighting an infection. They immediately administered an injection of something to help bring down his fever even before getting an intravenous line started, but their primary concern was immobilizing their patient as much as possible because his inability to move his legs could be indicative of nerve damage and they didn't want to take any chances.

It wasn't an easy process to get the unconscious Killian out of the tight confines of the mobile home either. They'd had to push the bed over to the wall in order to make room to secure him onto the rigid orange backboard but once his head and neck were immobilized with a cervical collar, the two paramedics cautiously maneuvered their patient onto the backboard and fastened the straps around his upper arms and chest, hips and lower legs. It took nearly fifteen minutes in total before they had Killian loaded safely into the back of the ambulance and on his way to Mesa General Hospital with Emma seated just behind his head while one of the paramedics tended to him, monitoring his blood pressure, heart rate and breathing on the way.

Whether he knew it or not, she remained close to his side as long as she could, answering the barrage of questions thrown at her from everyone. What happened? Was he allergic to any medications? Did she know his medical history? That one alone threw her because geez – after hundreds of years, did Killian even know his whole medical history? Would he even want to try to remember all of it? She tried her best to stick to the brief story Ranger Littlecreek had concocted if she was asked anything about what had transpired on the mountain, but even simple questions like how her husband's left hand had been amputated required complicated answers because the truth wasn't exactly an option.

She would have stayed with him longer if she'd been allowed but a woman wearing lavender scrubs stopped her at a set of double doors and directed her to the waiting area for family while Killian was wheeled out of her sight in preparation for surgery. An X-ray image in the Emergency room had confirmed what Grandmother suspected – the tip of the dagger was positioned between his T-12 and L-1 vertebrae and while Emma didn't really know what that meant, anything close to his spine couldn't be good. The look on the ER doctor's face hadn't made her feel any better, but now all she could do was hope that the damage wasn't irreparable.

* * *

Little did she know that mere minutes away from Mesa General's Emergency room, a stocky man clad in a poorly fitted black polyester suit and matching tie was casually strolling up to the Admissions desk of Scottsdale Regional Medical Center. In the busy lobby, he drew little attention even when his broad shoulders caused him to have to pass through the metal detector nearly sideways, but the tall, burly man wasn't interested in drawing attention to himself. He wanted his story to be memorable which he hoped would draw the best response yet he wanted to remain anonymous enough that a description other than  _big, muscular guy_ would prove difficult.

The brunette woman behind the desk couldn't have been much more than twenty years old and that brought a satisfied smile to his lips. Young and naïve were his favorite type to procure information from and he knew just how to play to that type.

"Good morning, Sweetheart," he said with a broad smile and his most convincing Texas accent. "I'm hoping you'll be able to help me out with a teeny little problem I'm having…"

"I'll be happy to," the young woman replied as she watched him produce a wallet from his sports coat pocket that contained a shiny metal very official looking badge.

"My name is Marshal Llamas with the U.S. Marshal Service. I'm attempting to locate the whereabouts of an escaped Federal prisoner who we were transporting from Dallas to Los Angeles. She's a blonde woman in her early thirties who is likely traveling with an accomplice – a dark-haired man missing his left hand who was wounded during the escape. My team and I are checking out all emergency facilities in the greater Phoenix area to see if anyone matching that description has been treated or admitted. They're most likely traveling under assumed names…"

"I'll be glad to check for you, Marshal, but it doesn't sound familiar…" The young woman began typing some search parameters into her computer when one of her co-workers walked up behind her and saw the badge laying on the desktop.

"Is there something I can help you out with, Rachel?" the woman with shoulder length raven black hair asked, her deep chocolate brown eyes locked on the huge man standing before them.

"Oh, Rosie – this is Marshal Llamas. He's trying to find out if we treated a patient who may have helped a Federal prisoner escape. He said the wounded man only had one hand. Does that sound familiar to you?"

" 'Fraid not – but did you ask Marshal Llamas if he had a warrant? Patient information is confidential so we can't even search without a warrant."

"I'm afraid we haven't had time to secure a warrant yet," the Marshal replied. "All of this just happened yesterday but if you'd be willing to assist now, I'll be happy to bring the warrant by as soon as my partner gets it signed."

"I'm pretty sure we'll need to see that signed warrant first, Marshal," Rosie stated firmly. "We'll be happy to search our database as soon as you have the proper paperwork for us. We have to protect our patients' privacy."

"You do realize that this escapee is armed and very dangerous? By not divulging if you've treated her accomplice, you're endangering all of your patients," Llamas persisted, but the raven haired woman stood her ground and refused his request.

"I'm sorry, Marshal. Those are the rules I'm bound by. Come back once you have that warrant if you'd like our assistance."

Realizing he'd get nowhere with this more experienced clerk, Llamas collected his badge and slid a business card across to the brunette. It had his name and title – R. Llamas, US Federal Marshal embossed on milky white paper with the Marshal Service emblem stamped into the corner. The card listed two contact phone numbers – one for his office as well as a mobile number.

"Thank you for trying, Sweetheart," he said with a devilish grin directed solely at young Rachel, ignoring Rosie completely. "If you think of anything that isn't confidential, please give me a call."

"Just show me that warrant first, Marshal," Rosie repeated, unfazed that he was speaking only to Rachel. As long as she was here, the man wasn't about to get information. The man finally shot her a wicked half smile that sent chills down her spine as she spotted what could only be a glint of pure evil in his eyes. He stormed away from the desk in frustration leaving Rosie standing in stunned silence until he was safely out of the building. "Rachel, what were you thinking?" she spoke up as she shook off the creepy vibe she'd gotten from Marshal Llamas. "You were really about to search patient files without seeing a warrant?"

"He's a Federal Marshal. Wasn't I supposed to cooperate with him?" the brunette asked.

"Cooperate – yes. We always try to cooperate with law enforcement, but we have to know that what they're doing is legitimate. That's why we need a warrant. Our patients come first otherwise."

"Do we even have a one-handed man admitted?"

"Not that I know of, but we still don't search without the proper documentation."

"What should I do with this?" Rachel wondered as she picked up the business card Marshal Llamas had left for her.

"He'll probably be back but we need to make sure the word gets out that no one is to give him anything unless he shows a signed warrant first. Can you send out an email while I go talk to Security?"

"I'll type it up right now," the younger woman said with a relieved sigh, thankful that Rosie wasn't going to report her for policy violation.

"I'll be right back," Rosie told her opening the door leading out to the administrative wing, but she wasn't heading to speak with Security – at least not yet. She walked hurriedly down the hallway in search of a space that would give her some privacy, finding an empty conference room which she ducked into, closing the door behind her. She dug into the back pocket of her dress slacks retrieving her cell phone, rapidly dialing a number from her contact list.

"Carlos – it's Rosie over at Scottsdale Regional… Yeah, someone just came in asking about the couple you mentioned in that broadcast you sent out. I guess the word didn't get around fast enough but thankfully, I overheard part of the conversation and jumped in… Yeah - just like you said – a big guy, but Carlos, he's claiming to be a US Marshal. He showed us a badge and left behind a pretty legit looking business card that says R. Llamas and gives a couple of phone numbers… No, he didn't get anything out of us because he didn't have a warrant, but if he sweet talks the right person, he could get a lot of info out of them. Rachel probably would have told him anything… Okay, I'll check with Security. If they got a good image of him on camera, I'll have them forward it to you… Okay, I'm sure he'll be back and he might even try to fake a warrant. I don't know if I could spot a fake one… I know, but look Carlos, wherever you think these people are, you'd better get the place on lockdown because this guy – he isn't right. He gave me the creeps…"


	8. Chapter 8

Emma sat alone in the waiting room for a few minutes, not really sure what she should do. How long would it take to remove a broken piece of dagger and repair all the damage the miserable thing had caused? A couple of hours? She thought about calling home – it'd be about lunchtime there, but while she felt so alone right now, it didn't exactly mean that she was the only person present in the waiting room. There were at least a dozen others here in the room with her, all waiting for updates on their loved ones – far too many people to have within earshot of the conversation she needed to have.

So, she started wandering the hallways, not wanting to venture too far away that they wouldn't be able to locate her when there was news to share, but seeking a bit of privacy that wouldn't be found in any of the rooms she'd visited so far. She stopped briefly in the cafeteria to grab some coffee hoping the caffeine would help keep her alert during what promised to be a long wait, asking the cashier if there were any quiet areas on the hospital campus that would allow her to make a private phone call. The young man told her about an outdoor lounge area off of the main lobby that had one time been the smoker's retreat before that vice was banned from the campus. It was now more of a little xeriscape garden area with some native plants and cacti on display but he said it was normally fairly secluded.

Thanking the cashier, she sought out the rock garden refuge that was hidden away between the hospital's two wings. There wasn't a lot of shade to escape the Arizona heat, but she found a bench that had a little bit of shelter under the shadow of a huge yucca plant. There was one other person out here with her, but there was sufficient distance between them that if she kept her voice down, her side of the conversation wasn't likely to be overheard. She had a lot of questions that needed answering and definitely needed a distraction from worrying about her husband…

* * *

She sat the Styrofoam coffee cup onto the bench beside her before retrieving her phone from the outer pocket of the backpack Carlos had brought her earlier, thankful that she'd had the presence of mind to grab it since neither the tee shirt or leggings she was wearing had pockets. She tapped her father's number from her contact list and waited for the call to connect.

"Emma, I'm so glad you called," David answered. "We've had a few breakthroughs today and I was getting ready to call you. Do you have a few minutes?"

"I was hoping you'd say that and yeah, I've got probably a few hours while I'm sitting here waiting, so what have you found out?"

"Waiting for what?" he wondered, becoming concerned upon hearing his daughters long, distraught sigh before answering his question.

"Killian took a turn for the worse this morning so our new Park Ranger friend had to call an ambulance. He's in surgery right now to try to fix all of the damage that dagger caused – oh, yeah, and to remove the broken tip of it that's sitting next to his spine…"

"What?!" David exclaimed, momentarily dumbfounded at the revelation his daughter had just dropped. He'd seen the dagger was missing its point when he'd picked it up from the street yesterday, but he'd simply assumed that the ancient looking blade broke when it was dropped. The thought had never crossed his mind that…

"Why didn't you tell me that the dagger's tip was broken off?"

"At the time it didn't seem at all important…," he sighed. "I would never have thought it broke like that…" He fell silent for a moment but she realized that he was actually whispering something to someone else nearby – someone she quickly realized was her mother when she heard a startled gasp in the background. "Emma, I'm so sorry…" he told her as he returned to the line. "The rest of this can wait if you want…"

"No, Dad. I'd rather try to keep my mind occupied right now and if you've got information on the two strangers who started this – spill."

"Well, we don't have a lot from her yet, but Regina managed to get a couple of names. The witch's name is Yzma and it seems like she was brought over from the Land of Untold Stories with Hyde and she has apparently been waiting months to open that portal. Regina said she keeps going on about the blood moon and how you're stealing her golden city…"

"Yzma? Really? Let me guess, her partner's name is Kronk?" she deadpanned, no longer surprised by any fairytale characters who popped up.

"How'd you know that?" David asked. "Yeah – his name is Nehemiah Kronk and from what we've found out about him, he's basically a soldier for hire. Loyalty pledged to whoever's paying him that day."

"I've seen the movie," she replied in the same unimpressed tone at yet another story book connection, but with a disturbing twist to the story she knew. "Although this Kronk doesn't sound like the loveable idiot from that story…"

"From what Belle turned up, there's absolutely nothing loveable about this guy. He's a nasty piece of work - wanted in several realms for crimes ranging from thievery to murder so it's not too surprising that he ran for the Land of Untold Stories to escape. Not sure if that's where he and Yzma met or if they knew each other before that. I really hope you and Hook are able to stay clear of him out there where you don't have magic."

"My thoughts exactly," she replied. "I just don't get why this Yzma person keeps saying we stole her gold. There's nothing gold here except the sun and the sand. It's not exactly El Dorado…"

"El Dorado?"

"The legendary city of gold? Guess they don't have that legend in your realm…?" She wasn't really interested in discussing fictional places right now though. She just wanted to know who she was dealing with and find a way to get home. "It doesn't really matter… Has Regina figured out how Yzma managed to open that portal anyway? Maybe there's a way to reverse it to get us home quicker?"

"Regina said she tried to get the scepter to work after we took it from Yzma, but so far, she hasn't had any luck. She's trying to figure out what she's doing wrong, but it might take a while."

"I don't know… Maybe it has to be at a certain time of day or could it have something to do with that blood moon you mentioned? A lot of magic spells require specific lunar timing. I can't imagine that Yzma would be the only one able to make it work…"

"Anything is possible, but I know Regina is still trying. We'll let you know if we can get it to work. In the meantime, you have to keep us updated on Hook. And how are you explaining all of this to the local authorities?"

"We've pieced together a semi-believable story – enough to keep the wolves at bay, but I'll have to work on some of the finer details. Oh, and I'll also need Regina to magically update a medical insurance file."

"So, no one has asked about why your husband has a hook instead of a left hand?"

"No one would know to ask. I had him remove it and I hid it before we left the cabin. They know he's missing a hand, but that's as far as it goes."

"Okay – that was a good idea. No use drawing any extra attention." David's thought was exactly what had gone through Emma's mind before they'd climbed into Carlos Littlecreek's SUV.

"I'm just hoping that we didn't wait too long…," her voice audibly cracking as her façade began to break. "Maybe we should have gone straight to a hospital anyway…"

"Emma – you made the decision you thought was best at the time based on your assessment of the situation. I'm quite sure your husband would have made his opinion known if he'd disagreed."

"It wasn't like I gave him much choice in the matter."

"Don't beat yourself up over it. He's made it this far. Second guessing yourself won't change anything that's already been done."

"I know, Dad," she sighed. "Doesn't make it any easier…"

"Promise you'll let us know as soon as you have an update?"

"I will – as long as you promise me that you'll let me know as soon as Regina figures out how to activate that scepter."

"That's a promise," he assured her.

* * *

Collecting the backpack and slinging it over her shoulder, she wandered back to the crowded waiting area, at least able to enjoy the air conditioning although she never even had a moment to sit down before the woman in lavender scrubs was standing before her once more.

"Mrs. Jones?" the woman asked tentatively. "I've been trying to find you…"

"Find me?" Emma said, allowing a little gasp to escape her lips as her mind reeled with unimaginable thoughts. "Is everything alright? My husband – is he okay?" She knew she sounded like a blubbering idiot, but she couldn't stop herself.

"Your husband is still in surgery. I don't have anything to report yet, but there's a man looking for you – a Ranger Littlecreek? He was just here asking about you a few minutes ago, but this waiting area is for immediate family only so I sent him back to the main lobby."

"He's the Park Ranger who rescued us this morning," Emma explained, sighing in relief that it wasn't anything to do with Killian. For now, no news had to be good news. "Was he going to wait for me?"

"It sounded like it," the woman replied. "I'm sorry – I didn't realize there was a connection."

"It's fine. I just came from that way so I must have just missed him. Thank you. I'm going to go see if I can locate him but if there's any news regarding my husband, please page me or something. I'll be back in a few minutes…"

She found Carlos Littlecreek seated on a leather sofa in the hospital's spacious main lobby, merely steps away from the desert hideaway garden where she'd been earlier. He saw her approaching, but the expression on his face wasn't exactly the welcoming one she'd expected but rather a mix of confusion and anger.

"Ranger Littlecreek," Emma greeted him with his professional title, smiling politely as she walked up to him, feeling slightly ill at ease by his conflicted visage. "You were looking for me?"

"Sheriff," he returned the businesslike greeting, his brown eyes darkened with distrust. "We need to talk and I didn't have a phone number to call you."

"Okay…," she responded, not understanding this change in attitude. Less than two hours ago, he was eagerly proposing a cover story and doing all he could to help them and now – now, it was as though he'd been betrayed and she had no inkling why. "You can ask me anything… What's wrong? Is someone questioning our story?" Had he gotten into some kind of trouble for aiding them?

"No – the story is holding for now, but something is really bothering me…"

"Bothering you? How so?" This was getting more confusing by the second.

"After you left in the ambulance, I went back to the bedroom to help Grandmother clean things up a bit – the broken pottery and all – and obviously, you didn't have time to gather up all of your things so she started to pick up your jackets from the floor…" Now it clicked. They'd found the one item that she'd wanted to keep hidden. "Imagine our surprise when something tumbled out of a red leather jacket - something that had us completely stumped…" Carlos pulled back a corner of his cargo vest to reveal just a glint of shiny steel and Emma's gaze immediately dropped to the floor. "Why the hell are you carrying this around and why does it look like it fits into that leather contraption your husband was wearing where his left hand used to be?"

"I'm not sure you'd understand my explanation," she sighed, still unable to look back up at him as her brain raced for something to say – anything to make him less suspicious as to why a sharpened metal hook was secreted away inside her jacket. "I honestly don't know what I could say that would make much sense…"

"How about the truth?" he demanded. "I want to help you, I really do, but can you just be honest with me?"

"Not here," she relented. "Can we go somewhere not so public? I'd really rather keep this confidential."

"How about my truck? It's out in the parking lot and will probably be the most privacy you're going to get around here."

"Works for me," she replied, trying not to let him see the anxiety brewing beneath her calm exterior. She had no idea what she was going to say – what she could say that wouldn't make her sound insane? So, she just remained quiet and pensive as they walked together out to the parking garage and took the elevator up to the 3rd level. Once they reached the SUV, they both climbed inside and he started the engine – partially so the noise would help prevent eavesdroppers and partially so the air conditioning would operate.

"Okay – it's just the two of us here, Sheriff," he began. "Law enforcer to law enforcer…"

"This isn't going to be easy to grasp," she stammered, "and up until a few years ago, I would have thought this story was just as crazy as it's going to sound to you…"

"As long as it includes a logical reason that you'd be carrying around a huge steel hook…"

"It belongs to my husband," she stated flatly. "And how did you manage to get it inside the building anyway? Didn't it set off the metal detectors?"

"Like I told you before, I know the head of Security here. I came in with him. But let's get back to your little tale – this thing belongs to your husband?"

"Yes. He's been wearing it as a prosthetic in place of his left hand since it was severed a very long time ago…"

"He wears a hook for a prosthetic hand?" Carlos asked skeptically.

"He does – and for a good portion of his life, it was part of the image he used to define himself – well, define who he thought he was back when all he could think of was getting vengeance against the man who'd cut off his hand. Back then, he used it to strike fear in those around him, but now it's just a part of who he is. It doesn't speak for him any longer…"

"You never said how your husband lost his hand."

"You never asked," she replied defensively. "He got into a skirmish with a jealous ex-husband while serving as Captain of a ship a long time ago."

"Ship Captain? He was Navy?"

"He did serve in the Royal Navy for a while, but this occurred while he was Captain of a very different type of ship…"

"Come on…," he scoffed. "You sound like you're describing Captain Hook…" He chuckled a little, but his humor was tempered when he saw the dead-serious look on Emma's face and she responded with just two words:

"I am."

"Oh, come on… You expect me to believe that?"

"Ranger, Killian is – er, was Captain Hook. He's put those pirating days behind him and while there are still people who refer to him by the name Hook, he's trying hard to just be Killian Jones now."

"Your husband is Captain Hook?" The Ranger wasn't about to be easily convinced . "I've read  _Peter Pan…_ I've seen the movies… How the hell can he be Captain Hook?"

"It's really a very long story, but it's who he is. You wanted the truth and you're getting it." She wasn't really certain this was the best path to take, but she'd unloaded part of her secret life already, so there was no going back now. "Your grandmother sensed something was different about Killian after she treated him. She told me she sensed he had an old soul and she was right…"

"An old soul?" he chuckled. "Exactly how old?"

"Honestly, I don't know the exact number for sure. A lot of curses and cursed places had an effect on how his body aged, but it's somewhere around three hundred."

"Three hundred years old? You've got to be kidding me…"

"Why am I bothering to tell you this then? You're not going to believe a word I say…"

"So, who does that make you? Tinkerbell?"

"No. Tinkerbell is a fairy, I'm not – although in the right setting, I have magic powers just like her." She didn't care anymore if Carlos was believing this or not. He could think she just escaped from an insane asylum for all she cared. "I'm actually the daughter of Snow White and Prince David – Prince Charming…"

The Ranger choked back another chortle, fully believing that this woman sitting beside him – a woman he'd known for barely a day – had lost her mind.

"Snow White and Prince Charming, huh?"

"I knew you'd never believe us, that's why I didn't tell you any of this yesterday," Emma spat, throwing open the passenger door of the SUV intending to exit before he had her committed. "I shouldn't have bothered."

"Wait!" Carlos reached across the front seat to grab ahold of her bicep before she could climb out of the vehicle, stopping her from leaving. "Are you really serious about all of this?" Grandmother had sent him to find this couple yesterday and while he had reacted strongly to the discovery of the hook, she had simply set it aside and continued about her business as if she'd already known it would be there. He'd been the one who'd found it awkward and disturbing.

"Of course, I'm serious about it," she stated angrily. "Do you honestly think I could make up a story like this? As story as bizarre as being the daughter of Snow While and being married to Captain Hook? Would it help if I told you that we were married by Jiminy Cricket and our wedding guest list included a whole lot of dwarves, the Evil Queen and the Wicked Witch of the West?"

The Ranger's head was spinning by now. Her story was so incredibly unbelievable that it almost made sense and now he couldn't stop wondering how much Grandmother might have known about them. Her premonition had directed him right to this couple – right to the exact trail and seldom utilized way station at the summit. Would she believe this tale? She'd opened her home to these strangers – welcomed them in with few questions asked so, had she known that there was something different about these out-of-town visitors?

"How exactly did you end up on the mountain? I know you didn't hike up there…" He momentarily changed the subject, but secretly hoped her answer would help clarify what he was beginning to believe.

"A magical portal," Emma answered straightforwardly knowing he likely already considered her a nutcase. Why back away now? "Basically - a swirling vortex that opened up on Main Street yesterday morning, right after Killian was stabbed by the man we're trying to avoid. He stumbled and fell in so I had to jump in after him. I knew he was wounded so I couldn't let him go alone and while typically these things are designed to take you wherever – or whenever – you're thinking of, this one was different. It brought us straight to a mountainside that I promise you, neither of us would ever had thought of!"

"Are these portals a regular occurrence where you're from?"

"They've definitely become an increasing problem for my family. This wasn't our first…" She paused a moment to gauge the Ranger's expression trying to determine exactly how skeptical he was of all of this, but in truth, the look in his eyes was more one of confusion than anything. "Okay – admit it… You think I'm insane, don't you?"

"I've got to admit, Sheriff, yours is one of the strangest tales I've ever heard," he replied while massaging his temples with his thumb and middle finger, an exasperated snicker escaping his mouth. "But I've spent a lifetime growing up hearing Navajo and Yavapai history – tales of magical places and creations, of gods and men who would be gods so I really can't say if your story is any more or less fantastical than my own. I tell tales to tourists about sacred places in these mountains and of the Native people who have long believed these mountains hold secrets like gateways to other worlds - including one to the underworld of the dead if you believe in things like that…"

"That's one I'd rather avoid. Not a place I really want to visit again," Emma said without realizing how absurd it sounded.

"Wait – did you say  _again_?"

"That's a story for another day," she replied, cringing that she'd even brought it up.

"I think that's one I'd like to hear," he laughed.

"Probably not, but the question is now – do you believe me?"

"I'm not sure what I believe, but if you could come up with a whopper of a fairytale like that on a whim, I'm duly impressed. There's just one thing I have to know…"

"What's that?" she wondered, not sure how much else she could tell him if he wasn't yet convinced.

"Did your husband actually wear a big floppy feathered hat and a waxed moustache?" Carlos asked with a playful grin.

"Thankfully – no," she chuckled, finally breathing a sigh of relief that the tone of their conversation had reversed. "He was much more partial to long, dramatic black leather dusters and meticulously groomed scruff – along with a generous application of black kohl lining his eyes."

"Black leather and eyeliner? That's quite a drastic deviation from the storybook character…"

"You'd better believe it!" she giggled, remembering the first time she'd shown Killian an image of how this world had depicted Captain Hook. He'd been horrified and absolutely livid at the inaccuracies saying that no self-respecting pirate would ever create such an embarrassing persona, referring to his literary counterpart as the  _prissy pompadour_. "Now, if you don't mind, I really should be getting back to my husband…"

"Before you go back, there's something you need to know," he began, his demeanor instantly morphing into a frighteningly serious one. "The man who came through the portal with you, he showed up at a hospital in Scottsdale this morning, pretending to be a US Marshal. He told the clerk at the Admissions desk that his name was Llamas and he was looking for a couple with your descriptions. I've already checked with the Marshal Service and there's no one with that name working in this area. Who the hell is this guy?"

"According to what my family has turned up back home, he's really a mercenary by the name of Nehemiah Kronk. They're working to dig up more information on him and his partner, but this is an interesting development. He's impersonating a US Marshal? That's an odd choice…"

"Most people don't know much about the Marshal Service and how they operate. They probably wouldn't even know what their badges looked like, so it's a pretty good choice for a cover if you want to pretend to be law enforcement."

"Oh, that I know, but he's from my world. They don't have US Marshals in the fairytale world which has me wondering how he came up with that ruse? Makes me think he's been in this realm before. I just don't know how…"

"Our world isn't easy for fairytales to get to – even with these portal things?"

"This world isn't difficult to get to, but it's not easy to return from. They call your world The Land Without Magic where we're from. Finding a way back to the fairytale realms from here would require a little more creativity."

"Land Without Magic? You believe that?"

"I know mine doesn't work here or my husband wouldn't be laying on an operating room table right now," Emma sighed. "If we were still in Storybrooke, I could have instantly healed his wound."

"You have healing powers?" he asked incredulously.

"Amongst others," she grinned through the painful reminder that her powers were useless here. "None that I can show you here though."

"If you believe Grandmother, this land wasn't always without magic. She's one of many among our people who believe that magic might still be out there – we've just forgotten how to recognize it – how to feel it. I guess I've always been a skeptic, but your convoluted tale almost makes me want to believe."

"Supposedly, there's magic everywhere we look, but not all of it can be harnessed. I was told a long time ago that magic is a feeling. You can't wield it if you can't feel it and mine is definitely tied to my emotions. I just wish I could feel it right now…"

"I'm sure…," he replied empathetically, understanding how awful it had to be for her to not be able to heal her husband if she indeed had that capability. "I had better let you get back in there now…"

"So, we're good?"

"Yes – we're good. Do you want the hook back now?"

"Why don't you keep it safe for us for a while? I'd rather not have a nurse find it and have to go through all of this again."

"I'll be happy to keep it safe for you. Oh, and Sheriff – how about you give me your phone number so I don't have to send a nurse to track you down again?"

"Gladly. Right now, having nurses hunting me down is a little nerve-wracking…"

"Sorry. I'll try not to do that again."

"Appreciate it," she replied as he handed her his phone so she could enter her number into the contacts. "And please – keep our secret safe too. It's bad enough that Killian's attacker is out there, but if our real identities were to get out, it'd put us in even more danger because I doubt others would likely believe us. People will just think we're crazy and we already have enough to deal with…"

"The only person I need to tell is Grandmother, but I have my suspicions that she already knows that you aren't from around here – and I don't mean Arizona… She probably already thinks you dropped out of the sky from Maine or whatever…"

"Not exactly from the sky, but I know what you mean."

"I've got to head back to work now, but I'll drop by after my shift. I'm going to pull in a few favors with the Sheriff's department here to see if we can track down this Mr. Kronk. I'll keep you posted. Now – get out of here and go be with your husband."

Emma smiled as she climbed down from the SUV, both surprised and relieved that her revelation had gone as well as it had. Confiding the truth in the Ranger had been a risky decision, but it was better than piling on more lies. Even here, far from Storybrooke, she at least had one superpower that still worked and it was telling her that she could trust Carlos Littlecreek and his family and they certainly needed allies right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this version of Kronk is going to be similar only in name. He's not an idiot and while he might have been deterred in the previous chapter, he's not going to give up easily. 
> 
> And for Emma - she took a huge leap of faith trusting Carlos with the truth. Did her superpower fail her or was it the right decision? 
> 
> And I know there wasn't much Killian in this chapter, but we'll learn how he's doing in the next chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After revealing their true identities to Ranger Littlecreek, Emma now has to face her husband's prognosis.

"Mrs. Jones?"

She heard the voice but from where? Was this part of a dream?

"Mrs. Jones?" the voice repeated, this time snapping Emma awake as she was struck with the realization that she'd fallen asleep on a battered faux leather sofa here in the dreary hospital waiting room. Her eyes gradually opened to see the face of a woman with deep olive skin and jet black hair pulled into a loose bun atop her head standing before her.

"Yes…?" she replied drowsily, not yet fully alert but already feeling the protest from her back, neck and shoulders as she tried to straighten her body from the awkward position she'd slept in. "Sorry – fell asleep, I guess…"

"It's alright," the nurse answered with a sweet smile. "Happens all the time. I just came to let you know that your husband is out of surgery and has been moved into recovery. The surgeon would like to speak to you for a moment."

"Is Killian okay?" Emma wondered, jolted fully awake with renewed concern as the thought of the surgeon wanting to speak with her didn't sound promising.

"He's very critical, but stable at the moment. Dr. Pineda will tell you more. Please, follow me."

Emma stood and retrieved the backpack, having used it as a pillow apparently, then followed the raven-haired nurse along a narrow corridor to what could pass for a smaller version of the waiting room they'd just left. This room held only six wooden armchairs that looked even less inviting than the furniture in the larger room. There were two chairs positioned against each of the windowless walls, a square table topped with months old magazines next to each pair. The room was certainly anything but cozy – feeling decidedly cold as she noticed there wasn't even a single piece of artwork or a television and she couldn't help but wonder exactly what this little room was typically used for.

The nurse gestured for Emma to have a seat then left her in the strange little room but Emma didn't have a chance to sit down in one of those seemingly uncomfortable armchairs before a tall, dark haired man sporting a crisp white lab coat and pale blue surgical scrubs appeared behind her in the doorway.

"Mrs. Jones?" he asked with a glance down at the metal clipboard in his hand.

"Yes – that's me," Emma replied, trying to ignore the growing lump in her throat as she awaited her husband's prognosis.

"I'm Dr. Pineda, part of the surgical team who just finished patching your husband back together," the doctor stated with a very polite smile, obviously attempting to lighten the mood. "Why don't you have a seat?" He motioned toward the nearest pair of armchairs, but Emma didn't really want to sit down.

"I'd really prefer to just stand right now."

"That's fine. Whatever is more comfortable for you. I just have to tell you that your husband is a very lucky man. We brought him back to recovery about twenty minutes ago after removing this nasty little thing from against his spinal column…" He reached into the right-hand pocket of his lab coat and brought out a small specimen jar which contained a metal triangle that was discolored by rust and probably blood. It was about a half-inch long and even from a distance, Emma could see that its edges were jagged and most likely, very sharp. "This appears to have broken off of the blade used to stab him and while that initial puncture wound certainly caused extensive damage itself, this tiny little razor blade was making things worse. Any movement your husband made was causing this thing to shift around, nicking whatever was around it causing heavy internal bleeding and some nerve damage. Thankfully, nothing was completely severed so there shouldn't be any permanent damage."

"So, his inability to move his legs this morning wasn't due to paralysis?"

"No. There's a lot of swelling around the site of the wound due to infection and pooling blood from those internal injuries and there was damage to the cartilage disk between his T-12 and L-1 vertebrae, but that will heal. We've drained most of the excess fluid, but honestly, it was a good thing you got him here when you did. The homeopathic remedies were a good start to treat the infection, just not strong enough and there was no way for you to know how extensive the internal bleeding was. With the amount of blood loss, he might have only made it a few more hours…"

"He'll be okay now though, right?" Emma asked with a noticeable, horrified gulp.

"Now that the broken shard is out of his chest and no longer opening new wounds, he should recover fully. We've repaired all of the major damage, but he did lose a lot of blood. He'll likely need a few more transfusions to help his system stabilize, but from the look of his numerous scars, he doesn't appear to be a stranger to traumatic injuries. I saw that his chart lists his occupation as Deputy Sheriff, but these injuries sure don't look like they came from that profession…"

Emma nearly choked as she thought about how to explain all of Killian's battle scars in a way that would be believable. It had been so much easier to just spill it all to Carlos Littlecreek.

"He was a Captain in the Navy – the Royal Navy – years ago. Saw more than his fair share of battle until he lost his hand… He didn't become Deputy Sheriff until long after that."

"I see. That would certainly make sense to explain all of that trauma. I hope for his sake that it means he's a survivor."

"You could say that. He's led an interesting life," Emma replied. "Will I be able to see him soon?"

"I don't normally allow this, but since you are both law enforcement officers, I'll make an exception and have Patrice take you back there for a few minutes. It's been a slow morning so far, so he's the only patient in recovery right now. He isn't going to be conscious yet."

"It's okay. I just need to see for myself that he's alright. Thank you for everything you've done to help him."

"You're very welcome, Mrs. Jones, but your husband definitely has the most work to do. The next 24 hours are going to be critical and while he is stable at the moment, that could change in an instant so just be prepared for anything…" Emma nodded in response but didn't say anything else. She understood how precarious the situation was, finally lowering herself into one of the armchairs in that windowless room, staring pensively at the blank wall opposite her as the doctor departed, stopping to say a few words to the dark-haired nurse who had escorted Emma to this room before he disappeared down the corridor. A moment later, that same nurse, presumably Patrice, stepped through the doorway and approached Emma, a very professional, yet empathetic smile on her lips.

"Dr. Pineda just told me he'd given you permission to spend a few minutes with your husband. He's this way so you can follow me and you can go ahead and leave the backpack here. No one will bother it." Barely waiting for Emma to get to her feet, Patrice headed back out of the door and made a right turn. Emma sprang up and stayed right behind her as they passed several rooms on each side of the hallway, most with their doors closed. Patrice finally paused as the corridor ended at a set of double doors. "Wait here for just a moment while I let Rosa know that you've been authorized to stay a few minutes. There's a sink just to the left if you'd please wash your hands before going inside. I'll be right back…"

Emma stepped toward the huge steel double sink while Patrice pushed open one of the doors they'd been standing in front of and quickly scrubbed her hands while attempting to get a glimpse inside the room through the little windows in each door. She could see Patrice walking back toward her from the other end of the room but she couldn't make out much else except a bunch of beige and pale blue curtains that cordoned off the room. She finished drying off her hands just as the door swung open and the nurse gestured for her to enter.

Emma timidly accepted the invitation, suddenly awash with overwhelming emotion - including a feeling of awkwardness that she was entering an area that would normally be off-limits. She couldn't yet see where her husband lay, but obviously he was shrouded behind one of these many curtains and the increasing butterflies in her stomach reminded her he was near. Patrice had stopped next to the third curtain and was now facing Emma, preparing to go over a few instructions.

"Your husband is right back here and as you can see, even when we don't have a lot of patients, it's a little bit close in here so there's nowhere to sit down. It's okay to touch him but try not to disturb any of the monitoring devices. You'll see that he is still intubated until his vitals stabilize, but we plan on being able to remove the tube before we bring him upstairs. It might look a little worrisome, but his lungs are technically fine - he's just still coming out of very heavy general anesthesia. I think that covers it. Do you have any questions for me?" Emma shook her head, barely able to think of anything while so tense. "Alright then – I'll give you fifteen minutes. You'll see Rosa just to the left should anything happen."

Patrice tugged the privacy curtain aside, allowing Emma to step through before leaving them alone and the first thought that crossed Emma's mind was that the nurse hadn't been exaggerating when she warned that Killian might look a little frightening. She tried hard to fight back the little gasp that escaped her lungs at the moment she laid eyes on her husband laying silently on the narrow bed which actually looked more like a gurney with the metal safety rails raised on both sides. A pale blue blanket was draped over him, tucked loosely around his legs and hips and pulled up to his chest where it obscured her view of the thick gauze bandages covering the surgical incision that would soon become his latest scar. His arms were positioned straight atop the blanket and she could see that there were bundles of wires extending out from beneath the blanket toward various electronic devices and several tubes stretching from the transparent bags of donated blood and intravenous fluids which led into a spot on the inside of his right forearm.

She reached between the metal rails to grasp his hand and unexpectedly noticed that it was secured to the bed by a soft white fabric cuff - which had her wondering why they would have him restrained. She assumed it had to be for one of two reasons – either they needed to keep his arm immobilized due to the unusual location of the IV or they were concerned that he'd awaken and in a semi-conscious state possibly attempt to yank out the IV or maybe even the breathing tube. She did her best to ignore the restraint and wrap her hand around his, finding herself somewhat unnerved by the sensation of his bare, ring-less fingers. It was almost surreal to see him like this – his skin a pale, pasty white; the unnatural rise and fall of his chest as his breathing was aided by the ventilator.

Her left hand found its way to his cheek, caressing the side of his face while being mindful of the breathing tube that marred her view his still handsome features. Her fingertips drifted down to his jawline until she found herself absentmindedly playing with the tendrils of dark hair along the nape of his neck.

"I love you," she whispered to his ear as she leaned in as close as she could to him as she anticipated the inevitable tears coming on. Why hadn't he let her know how much pain he'd been in? He had to have been in complete agony every time that broken piece of dagger moved and inflicted pain anew, but he hadn't complained. If she'd known she never would have made the decision not to go directly to a hospital – but he knew that. He'd suffered in an attempt to keep both of them safe, but for how long? "Hang in there…"

She hadn't expected any response so when she glanced back up at his face, she wasn't expecting to see a pair of blue eyes staring back at her. His gaze was glassy and she saw no hint of recognition as he was still deeply under the effects of anesthesia and morphine but she took it as a good sign even if those eyelids didn't stay open for long and unconsciousness quickly reclaimed him. She waited patiently, hoping for another moment of wakefulness, but none came. It was disappointing, but she knew not to expect much – honestly, he hadn't been out of the operating room that long. It was going to take time for him to get well – to get strong enough for them to return home, but for now, she had to be strong to keep both of them alive and stay one step ahead of Nehemiah Kronk.

Emma had been so lost in thought that she barely noticed when Patrice returned, gently tapping her on the shoulder to garner her attention.

"Has it been fifteen minutes already?" Emma wondered, time barely relevant to her train of thought right now.

"I'm afraid so," the nurse replied. "Don't worry – I'll come get you when we're ready to move him to a private room upstairs. That way, you can ride up with him, okay?"

"Okay. You obviously know where you'll be able to find me," Emma sighed dejectedly. She wanted so much to kiss her husband right now, but with the railings in the way, she had to settle for a transferred one – pressing her lips against her own fingertips then tenderly touching them to his cheek. "See you in a little while, my love," she assured him, hoping that the nurse hadn't just seen the tear that just tumbled across her own cheekbone – not that the damp, shiny trail it left on her skin wouldn't be evidence enough. She wanted to give some semblance of strength even if it was ridiculous to think that a nurse would be bothered by the sight of a patient's wife crying. It was more her pride getting in the way than anything else.

"Come on," Patrice spoke up. "I'll walk you back to the waiting room where you met Dr. Pineda so you can collect your things."

"Thank you," Emma responded, giving Killian's hand one last squeeze before letting go. "May I ask you a question though? Why is his hand restrained like that?"

"We had such a horrible time keeping a viable IV line. The one that the paramedics started collapsed and he was so dehydrated that it took multiple attempts to located a useable vein. The best one that we could get was that one on the inside of his forearm but it's a location that's easily dislodged and since we didn't have a way to explain that to him before we put him under, we had to use the restraint so that if he woke, he wouldn't pull it free accidentally. Once he's conscious, we can explain it to him and remove it."

"Okay, that makes sense. He might put up a bit of a fight when he wakes though. He tends to take offense to being tied up…"

"I'll make a note of that," the nurse stated with a slightly raised eyebrow, "but I doubt he'll be up to fighting for a while…"

"I'm hoping you're wrong about that," Emma replied with a half-hearted grin. She needed Killian to be his usual stubborn self and start fighting back because it would be the first step in returning their lives to normal.

* * *

Time seemed to drag on excruciatingly slow as Emma sat alone again in the waiting room. She figured she should call their family with an update but since she didn't know exactly how much time it might be before news came that Killian was being moved out of recovery, she just stayed there, staring blankly at whatever old sitcom rerun was playing on the television mounted on the opposite wall. The actors seemed vaguely familiar but she wasn't really focused on the show as it was merely providing a mindless distraction to keep her brain at least semi-occupied – not that it was working.

Nearly forty minutes passed before she saw the raven-haired nurse's face again and the moment Patrice stepped through the doorway, Emma sprang to her feet.

"Mrs. Jones – my apologies for the delay in coming to get you," the nurse began as she gestured for Emma to join her in the corridor. "We had a minor setback that altered plans a little…"

"Setback?" Emma didn't like the sound of that word. "What exactly do you mean by 'setback'?"

"Come with me. I'll take you upstairs and try to explain on the way…" She led Emma over to the elevator bank to the right of the waiting area, pausing to press the UP arrow before she would continue the report.

"What exactly is going on?" Emma wondered, the unknown making her fearful that her husband may have taken another turn for the worse.

"Your husband's temperature spiked quite suddenly just as we thought his vitals had stabilized enough to move him upstairs and he suffered a minor seizure," the nurse stated as they entered the opening elevator. "We went ahead and moved him upstairs so that we could get him situated with cold compresses and medication to try to bring down the fever. We've also given him an anti-convulsive, but until his temperature returns to normal, he's definitely still susceptible to seizures which become increasingly dangerous for him due to the extent of internal injury he suffered because a violent seizure might tear open sutures or worse."

"How high was his fever?"

"It jumped to over 104 degrees in minutes and while it had been a little high before surgery due to the infected wound, this was rather unusual. Dr. Pineda even doublechecked his X-rays to ensure there wasn't another fragment we might have missed, but didn't find anything else. We're going to have to closely monitor him so that combined with the extra security that was requested due to the nature of your situation led us to the decision to place him in Intensive Care."

"Wait – Intensive Care?" Emma repeated, stunned at how far this had progressed.

"Right now, it's mainly precautionary," Patrice insisted as the elevator doors parted at the fourth floor. "It'll give us a better environment to evaluate him so we can get to the bottom of what caused his temperature to rise so drastically and hopefully, get it under control before he suffers any additional seizures. We just don't want to take any chances. I'm sure you understand that."

"Of course, I understand," Emma replied. All too well, she thought to herself as she was reminded once more of the dangerous gamble she'd undertaken. "It doesn't mean it doesn't still worry me though."

"I know," the nurse empathized. "He's been through a lot and that has to be frightening. That fragment really caused a lot of damage and honestly, he's really lucky he's still alive." Yeah, luckiest damn pirate in the universe Emma chuckled to herself.

Patrice headed to the left as they exited the elevator and Emma lagged behind, listlessly taking each step as so many unpleasant thoughts assaulted her mind. All she wanted right now was for Killian to be alright. She couldn't think about Nehemiah Kronk out there pretending to be a Federal Marshal as he hunted them. She couldn't think about Regina back home trying to figure out how to make that stupid scepter work to get the portal reopened and she certainly couldn't think for one second about their family – likely wrought with worry as they were too far away to comfort her at this moment. No, she couldn't allow herself to think about any of that. She just wanted to be with her husband and do whatever she could now to make up for her poor choice yesterday. She should have allowed Ranger Littlecreek to bring them straight here – should have done exactly that, but she hadn't made that decision. Until Sarah Bending Willow had mentioned the broken piece of the dagger, Killian's wound hadn't seemed quite as serious as it instantly became.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Jones?" Patrice asked, concerned that the woman following behind her had become so quiet.

"Yes – yes, I'm fine," Emma stammered as the nurse's words brought her back into this reality. "I was just trying not to think too much and managed to get myself thinking WAY too much…"

"I understand," Patrice responded in a calm, heartfelt tone as she approached the nurse's station for this wing. A man and woman stood on either side of the desk – one filing patient charts while the other was taking inventory of what appeared to Emma to be medications. "One moment. I'll introduce you to Bernadette and Tobias here…" Patrice stepped up to the desk, saying a few words to her colleagues that Emma couldn't make out but she saw the male nurse, Tobias, point toward a room just steps ahead before resuming his task. The female nurse, Bernadette, tucked the last clipboard back onto the rack then turned toward Emma with a solemn, professional smile on her face. It seemed genuine but this was obviously a place where the staff wasn't going to wear their emotions so openly. "Mrs. Jones, this is Bernadette," Patrice stated. "She's going to take over from here. I've got to head back to my own post, but I'll leave you in her capable hands."

"Thank you, Patrice," Bernadette said with another cordial smile as Patrice nodded and turned back toward the elevator. "Mrs. Jones, we're going to take good care of your husband. I'm sure you have a lot of questions for me and I'll be happy to answer any that I can."

"Right now, I really just want to spend more than fifteen minutes with him. I'll worry about questions later," Emma answered honestly.

"Of course. He's right over here in room 406. I'll give you some time alone and then I'll come back to answer any questions you might think of or help you out with anything you might need. Do you have any family or friends here with you?"

"No – they're all back in Maine. Closest we have to a friend here would be the Park Ranger and his grandmother who helped us out…"

"I see," Bernadette replied but she didn't comment further. This had to be stressful enough to deal with alone without unnecessary commentary from a stranger. "You can go on in. He's still unconscious but it will do him good to hear your voice."

"Thank you," Emma responded with a forced smile as she found herself fighting against a sudden trepidation – her heart nearly leaping into her throat to suffocate her as she stared at the room's entrance just feet away from her. Why was she suddenly trembling? She'd seen him just a few minutes ago and it hadn't been this scary. Maybe it was the seizure that changed her outlook with its unpredictability or maybe it was the very basic fact that she wished she weren't alone right now.

He didn't really look much worse than he had in the recovery room. Maybe it was just the harsh florescent overhead lights that were giving his skin a ghastly pale cast, intensifying the contrast to the deep purple bruising spreading beneath the surface where the failed attempts to secure an IV line had been made. They really looked painful, but of course, they were the very least of his problems right now and if there was one positive note she could see, it was that he was at least breathing on his own, even if it was supplemented with additional oxygen being funneled directly to his nostrils via a transparent tube stretched across his face. However erratic it might be, just seeing his chest rise and fall unaided brought her a little bit of peace.

She tenderly drew her fingertips across his temple, allowing them to drift over his cheek down to the scruff along his jawline, feeling the heat radiating from his body. She glanced over at the numerous electronic screens positioned to his left trying to make sense of the blips, bleeps and numbers displayed and find the one that indicated his current body temperature as she made out ones registering his current heart rate of 76 beats per minute and what looked like his blood pressure. She finally located the number that looked most like a temperature – a number that was fluctuating between 102.3 and 102.4. No wonder he was so warm but what had her somewhat alarmed was the fact that unlike yesterday in the cabin or at Grandmother Bending Willow's home, he wasn't sweating. Did he even know he was so feverish?

"I'm so sorry, Killian…," she whispered. "I wish I could heal you right now and take away all of this pain…" She pressed her lips to his forehead, unable to hold back the tear that fell onto his cheek when the overwhelming emotion flooded over her yet again. Her already bloodshot eyes welled with seemingly uncontrollable tears as she stopped trying to hide them behind the bulletproof façade. They were thousands of miles from home, being stalked by a cunning mercenary and Killian was barely clinging to life at one of the few moments she needed him to hold her more than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pirate is definitely going to have some rough times ahead of him as they'll soon learn that the physical injury might not be his only battle. This story has the word Superstitious in the title for a good reason and the chapters ahead will start delving into the more supernatural aspects of this tale as we start seeing myths and legends coming together to reveal the true nature of the portal Yzma and Kronk were seeking.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally got this latest update typed and edited! We left off the last chapter with Killian suffering a potentially dangerous fever but is there more to it?

Sarah Bending Willow hadn't given the faintest indication of surprise when a huge metal hook tumbled out of a balled up red leather jacket as she lifted the garment from the bedroom floor but the sight of the shiny metal object had certainly unnerved her grandson. He couldn't fathom why anyone would be carrying around a giant hook – especially one they'd clearly been attempting to conceal. And his curiosity only increased when he located the black leather contraption that Mr. Jones had been wearing on his stumped left arm. Presumably, the sheath and harness system were used to house his prosthetic but what raised Carlos' suspicion was that the narrow opening in the piece that fitted over his blunted forearm appeared to be the same size and approximate shape as the tapered base of the sharpened hook. Despite Grandmother's insistence that he leave it alone, the park ranger found that the hook locked perfectly and precisely into the slot. Why would someone be in possession of a steel hook that fit into a prosthetic device unless that hook was said prosthetic?

He'd felt a degree of betrayal from these people they'd rescued and had stormed off to the hospital in Mesa to demand some answers from Mrs. Jones. He wanted to know exactly what they were trying to hide and Grandmother saw no use in attempting to stop him. He needed his answers but the old woman sensed they would come in time so she'd simply continued tidying up the small bedroom, removing and soaking the bedcovers to wash away the traces of sweat and blood then vacuuming up the remaining shards of the shattered mug. She had intended to salvage what she could of her guests' own clothing but as she lifted one of Killian's black leather boots from the floor, a chill coursed through her body – goosebumps breaking out across her arms as the eerie sensation grew stronger.

Her wide, dark eyes were drawn upward toward the window and she found herself moving slowly toward that window, guided by an unseen hand. She lost her grip on the boot, allowing it to tumble back to the floor while she reached out to gingerly grasp a corner of the pale yellow curtain. Her weathered fingers were trembling as she pulled the fabric aside – and then she spied the trickster through the dusty pane of glass – the mangy, skinny coyote that stared back at her with its soulless black orbs.

"Go away, Trickster!" the old woman shouted angrily. "You have no power here!" The animal pawed at the gravel surface of her driveway before trotting off and disappearing between the neighboring homes. She released the curtain and just stood there for a few seconds – although it felt decidedly longer – transfixed by what had just occurred. It had been many years since she'd last been spooked by a coyote's appearance outside her home and despite her best efforts to dismiss the uneasy feeling it had conveyed, she'd allowed the animal to get inside her thoughts. The trickster was never a good sign – forever a bad omen when one crossed your path but it waa not herself she feared for. The unnerving experience had begun the moment she'd touched Killian Jones' boot – perhaps just enough for the spirits to sense that she could understand the man's journey. A journey wrought with evil, yet one she believed was evolving - and now they had chosen her to guide the White Witch.

Snapping back to herself, she hurried out of the room in search of her cordless telephone, locating it atop the ornate table which sat beside her recliner in the living room. She didn't know if he'd answer since he'd departed here in such a huff nor did she know exactly where he was working today, but she rapidly punched in her grandson's cell phone number, quite thankful when he actually answered.

"Grandmother? Is everything okay?" Carlos asked. "You don't normally call me at this time of day…"

"Are you heading up to the mountains today or are you here in the city?" she countered his question with one of her own, only making him more concerned.

"I'm at the field office in Scottsdale. What's wrong, Grandmother? You sound really nervous or something..."

"The trickster paid me a visit while I was trying to finish cleaning the guest bedroom…"

"You saw a coyote?" He knew precisely what that superstition meant – an omen of evil – something his grandmother very strongly believed. "Which way was it headed?"

"West – toward the hospital."

The animal's direction was very important indicating the path evil spirits would follow and in this case, they were moving toward their new friends – the friends whose real identities he'd learned only a short while ago. He still clung to the belief that Grandmother may have already known that the Joneses weren't just a small town Sheriff and deputy and doubted she believed that the couple had ended up in the Superstition mountains purely by chance.

"Okay – I understand. What do you want me to do?"

"Come pick me up. I'll prepare a medicine pouch to help ward off the coming evil for now, but they aren't safe."

"I doubt they'll be able to go anywhere for a while… I'll talk to Tim Stillwater and see if he can step up security, but I'm pretty sure that Sheriff Jones can handle herself."

"This is a great evil, Carlos. I felt it – it's darkness. This is an ancient evil like none I've known…"

"Okay – I'm on my way and I've got one hell of a story to tell you about who your guests really are…"

"The White Witch. She is the White Witch from my vision," Grandmother stated bluntly. He didn't recall her ever mentioning a vision about a witch and didn't know how it related to Emma being the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, but damn, if he wasn't incredibly curious now.

* * *

Abundantly thankful that he hadn't been scheduled for a shift up in the mountains today, Carlos Littlecreek slipped out of the field office early under their assumption that he was following up with the hikers he'd rescued. It wasn't entirely a lie but when the truth was that he was bringing his coyote-rattled grandmother to the hospital to warn the Joneses of evil spirits, it wasn't a difficult decision not to share the whole story. He was equally happy that he had the next two days off so he wouldn't need to explain any other potential absences – that was of course if all of this could be resolved in the next two days…

Grandmother stood just inside her screened door, anxiously awaiting his arrival as he pulled his own decade old Chevy Suburban into her driveway. She didn't wait for him to turn off the engine before she was out the door clutching a tan leather pouch intricately decorated with turquoise stones and brightly colored beads – her blessing bag as she'd called it since he was a boy. As she locked up her home, he noticed that she had changed her clothing from what she'd been wearing that morning, now clad in an off-white linen blouse adorned with bead work similar to the pouch she carried. She'd also loosened her hair, allowing her nearly waist-length pale locks to fall straight against her back. He knew she rarely went anywhere with her hair down so whatever had occurred was clearly affecting her in ways he couldn't comprehend. This was a side of Grandmother he didn't recall ever seeing before – at least not in the roughly thirty years he could remember.

The drive from her mobile park over to Mesa General Hospital took approximately twenty minutes in mid-afternoon traffic which allowed him time to relay the surprising conversation he'd had with Sheriff Emma. Grandmother had listened and nodded as he'd explained that the shiny steel hook they'd accidentally discovered belonged to Captain Hook, alter ego of Killian Jones who'd given up his life of piracy when he fell in love with and then married the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. He shared Emma's revelation that she possessed magical powers back in their home of Storybrooke – including the ability to heal. The elder woman had simply smiled at the news – almost aa though she'd already known - although Carlos doubted that she would ever reveal just how much she'd known about this mysterious couple before she'd sent him out to the Summit Trail to rescue them.

Now, her focus was only in making sure they were safe. That much Carlos knew for certain as they made their way inside the bustling hospital lobby. He had sent a message to Emma earlier to find out what room her husband was in, admitting to himself that he was genuinely concerned to learn that Killian was in the Intensive Care wing. Had there been complications from the surgery? What he'd witnessed that morning had without a doubt been worrisome and potentially life-threatening, but events seemed to have escalated and now they'd encountered another challenge – they weren't family and the hospital staff didn't intend to allow them to access the room. It took a little bit of bargaining and an intervening phone call from hospital security chief Tim Stillwater to gain them access to room 406 in the ICU wing but once they were finally able to obtain all of the necessary permissions, Carlos could almost see the relief in Emma's eyes. Being so far away from home, he and Grandmother were likely the closest they had to family right now.

"You look exhausted, child," Grandmother stated quite bluntly as she greeted Emma, clasping the younger woman's hands between hers. "Are the spirits wearing on you as well?"

"I don't know about 'spirits' but stress is definitely wearing on me," Emma replied with a deep sigh. "Killian still hasn't woke up and his temperature hasn't dropped at all. They've been drawing blood all afternoon for one test or another but they can't seem to isolate what's causing the fever."

"I fear he is being attacked by evil spirits," Grandmother insisted as she dug through the beaded blessing bag in search of the items she'd brought along.

"Evil spirits?" Emma repeated with a hearty degree of skepticism.

"Grandmother saw a coyote outside the guest room window earlier," Carlos attempted to explain, but the reference wasn't one that Emma was familiar with.

"I thought those were pretty common animals to find out here in the desert?" Emma asked, still unsure what a coyote might have to do with Killian's present malady.

"The Trickster – he is an omen of lurking evil – evil that is heading this way, although I fear that it may have already reached you," the old woman told her as she produced a much smaller, but nearly identical leather pouch from inside her blessing bag. The tiny bag was only about two inches square, decorated with similar intricate bead designs and from its lumpy appearance, contained some odd sized and shaped objects. "These will help hold the evil spirits at bay…," she stated, placing the pouch atop Killian's chest. "Turquoise stones are a powerful talisman to provide protection, but they cannot heal damage already done."

"You believe this might have something to do with his fever?" Emma wondered.

"Evil can manifest in many forms, so yes – the spirits may be causing this fever. They will not provide a cure, but they will protect him from the evil spirits trying to call him away. You will have to remove the traces of evil already placed upon him when your magic returns."

"My magic?" Emma responded with a nervous chuckle. "Okay, I see that Carlos filled you in on who we are and how we actually got here?"

"He did," Grandmother smiled broadly. "I am honored to have had royalty as a guest in my home."

"I'm hardly a princess," Emma scoffed. "I'm the one who's honored that you were willing to help a couple of strangers."

"And who's to say that you were strangers?" the old woman said cryptically. "I believe that I know your purpose here now."

"You do?" Emma was curious as to how their accidental trip through a portal might have some higher purpose.

"Many years ago – long before my grandson here was born, our gods brought a vision to me of a powerful being who would bring magic back to our mountains – a white witch who could wield her power with a hand that glowed like a burning sun. I believe you to be that witch from my vision…"

"I don't know…," Emma stammered. "Out here – away from Storybrooke or one of the magical realms, I'm just another person. My powers don't work here or I certainly wouldn't be sitting here watching my husband fight for his life…" That thought had undoubtedly been running through her head more than she'd like, but she couldn't change the fact that this was the Land Without Magic.

"The time will come. Perhaps when the Blood Moon arises in two evenings, the elements will align for you…"

"Blood moon?" Emma interrupted the elder woman. She'd heard that term too many times already for the astrological event to be merely a coincidence. "Did you just say  _blood moon_?"

"Yes, child," Grandmother answered. "The Blood Moon arises once a year and will be at its peak the night after tomorrow."

"The sorceress who opened the damned portal had been rambling on about the blood moon too. At least that's what my family learned from her… Whatever she was trying to do with the portal or wherever she was attempting to go, it had something to do with the timing of that moon. No way this is a coincidence…"

"Not likely – even for a skeptic like me," Carlos interjected, curious how the events tied together. "I'm going to go have a chat with my friend, Tim and see if he can do anything about security. I won't mention any of this supernatural stuff, although he's Apache so it probably wouldn't throw him, but I will definitely let him know about this Kronk person who's been impersonating a US Marshal. He's very real and I want to make sure that we're looking out for the safety of you and the Captain here."

"Appreciate it," Emma stated. "We might be stuck here for a while." She took a sideways glance at her unconscious husband as the waterworks threatened to break through again. "Especially if whatever the hell is attacking him doesn't break its hold soon."

* * *

At home in Storybrooke, the mood wasn't any less somber as David powered down the computer at his temporary desk – technically Emma's desk – as his day at the Sheriff station drew to an end. As acting Sheriff, he'd been thankful it had been a relatively slow day, although the prince attributed that mostly to the fact that half of the town was still reeling from the sudden disappearance of their Sheriff and Deputy. Not many townsfolk knew that Emma and Killian had been dropped into the middle of the Arizona wilderness and while David had informed a few close to the family that his daughter and son-in-law were basically okay, he didn't want to elaborate on their status because he honestly didn't really know.

He was planning to be out of the station by five o'clock if everything stayed quiet so he made no attempt to hide his displeasure when the front door swung open and Regina strolled into the squad room.

"I was hoping you'd still be here," was the first thing out of her mouth. No hello, no greeting whatsoever. Just straight to business which only increased his irritation.

"Just getting ready to head out for the night," David replied, letting her know in no uncertain terms that his day was done. "What can I do for you at this hour, Regina?"

"Do you still have that dagger around here somewhere? Belle wants to compare the symbols carved on it with the ones on the scepter."

"Yeah, of course. It's in the safe. Let me go get it…" David pressed the power button on the monitor to turn it off before kneeling in front of Emma's office safe, rapidly dialing the combination. He yanked the heavy door open and retrieved the slightly rusted and bloodstained broken dagger from the rectangular wooden box he'd stored it in. He hadn't really taken any time to appreciate the intricacy and artistry of the designs carved into the handle which appeared to be bone or some type of lightweight stone. It was definitely old - really old – yet the detail of the carving was still visible as were the inlaid precious stones along the hilt. "I hadn't really noticed what a work of art this thing actually was. At the time I picked this up, I was a little more focused on the bloodstains than the craftsmanship."

"These were probably ceremonial in nature," Regina responded as he stood up and handed the weapon to her, presenting it handle first. As she took it from David's hand she immediately noticed that the object was emitting a very strong, very dark vibration. "Wow – this thing is emanating a lot of dark magic – ancient dark magic…"

"Doesn't surprise me. It may be aesthetically beautiful, but that thing just looks evil," David stated. "Are you going to take it with you or do you just need some pictures of it?"

"I'd rather just take it with me, if that's alright with you? Maybe I can find a spell that can remove some of the darkness this thing's giving off. Even Gold's dagger doesn't give off vibes like this…"

"It's fine with me," David replied, returning to the safe to get the wooden box before closing and locking the door. "I had it stored in here…" He handed her the box with its hinged lid open and Regina wasted no time returning the dagger to its container, flipping the lid closed and securing it with the leather loop and tiny hook on the front.

"Thank you. It will be much easier to carry that way – especially as sharp as that broken part looks." She tucked the box under her arm while David switched off the lamp on the desktop. "I know you're trying to get out of here, but have you heard anything more from Emma?"

"I talked to her about an hour ago. Hook was just out of surgery but I guess it didn't go without complications. It wasn't hard to tell by the sound of her voice that she's having a hard time… Really wish someone was there with her…" David's own voice cracked as he made his way across the squad room to turn off the rest of the lights, hoping Regina hadn't heard the change in tone.

"I can't exactly spare another Sheriff right now," she said as he flipped the lights off, leaving only the emergency lighting illuminating the room. "We'll find a way to get them home."

"By the sound of things, it could be a while," he lamented. "I guess things were going okay after the surgeon removed the dagger shard from Hook's chest, but then his fever started to go up…"

"David – did you just say that they pulled a piece of this dagger out of the pirate?" she interrupted, hastily grabbing the prince's arm to stop him before he opened the door to leave.

"Yeah. I thought the damned thing broke when that Kronk guy dropped it, but that's not what happened. I guess the point snapped off when that old rusty metal struck the pirate's spine and the piece got lodged in there…"

"This isn't good…," Regina muttered to herself but he heard her anyway.

"What isn't good?"

"You know how I said that the dagger is seeping with dark magic? Well, if that broken piece was inside Hook's body, he might be suffering from the effects of that dark energy…"

"But they're not in a realm with magic. How would it affect him there?"

"Even in a realm without magic, this kind of darkness could still be toxic. It might not manifest itself the same as it would here, but it could still work like a curse. It might manifest like a really bad case of the flu or something, but if you say he's already running a fever, we're going to need something quickly. I'll work with Zelena to see if we can put together a potion to counteract the darkness until we can get him back here and cure him properly."

"The potion won't cure him?"

"No – it's only a temporary fix. And a lot of this really depends on how much evil was soaked into that broken piece. Just please let Emma know what is going on and that we'll get the potion to her by courier as soon as possible. Guess I'd better make sure that Belle steps up her part too. I know we're close to figuring out how these things work so we can get that portal reopened."

"What do I tell Emma – that this might be a magical curse not a physical injury?" David asked her sarcastically. "The hospital will be treating this like an infection or something…"

"If it's magical in nature, as it likely is, nothing they give him will have any effect. He'll just keep getting weaker. The potion would ward off some of the dark magic and slow its progression, but we'll still need to rid him of it entirely as soon as possible or…" She paused there, not sure what was the best way to explain.

"Or what, Regina?"

"Or he'll eventually get so weak he won't be able to regain consciousness. We'll do what we can to buy as much time as possible, but we've got to get them both back to Storybrooke soon."

"Not sure how we'll accomplish that, but I guess you'd better go get to work on that potion and then we'll find a way to get it to Emma even if I have to fly it there myself."

"I'll have it ready by tomorrow. We'll need to get a place to ship it to but I'm sure we can find a courier who can get it to Phoenix by evening."

"Alright, I'll call Emma and let her know what's going on. I'll see if there's a place we can ship the potion to – maybe to the woman who helped them out yesterday? We certainly can't ship a magical potion to the hospital. Don't think that would be a good idea…"

"You're right on that," Regina replied. "We will figure something out – even if I have to send a dwarf to hand deliver it."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My apologies that it has taken me so long to get some updates posted on my WIP stories. I've had this chapter written for a few weeks but with the holidays and the onset of peak season at work, I've had little time to get around to typing and editing. This chapter focuses primarily on Emma, giving some insight into how she is dealing with their difficult situation and yes, there's lots of angst ahead...

If she'd really been looking at the sky, the brilliant colors of the desert sunset might have caught her attention. Instead, Emma was only staring at the window, oblivious to the display of pinks, reds, purples and grays that Mother Nature was putting on beyond the glass. It had been hours since Grandmother and Carlos left and the loneliness was beginning to wear on her again. She'd read a text message from her father a few minutes ago, asking her to call home as soon as possible, but she wasn't ready to make that call yet. The nurses were pretty strict about not using her cell phone in the room, a rule that Emma found quite annoying, especially when keeping in touch with their family was so important right now. She needed updates regarding the man stalking them and truthfully, needed to hear their voices because it was crucial to clinging to her sanity. Were they afraid that she might wake Killian up? That was precisely what she wanted to accomplish right now.

She tapped out a quick response to David saying she would call later even as she was telling herself she probably should make the short walk over to the guest lounge in the other side of the elevators, but she just couldn't convince herself to leave Killian alone. What if he woke up while she wasn't there and was disoriented? He wouldn't know where he was and might react adversely to his arm being restrained. He would be searching for her familiar face or straining to hear the sound of her voice. He had been showing subtle, but promising signs that he might wake soon - little twitches here and there - so she didn't dare leave him yet. Not until he woke and she could tell him everything was okay – even if it wasn't.

And the absolute truth was, he wasn't okay. Even after several blood tests, the doctors hadn't uncovered anything more than a minor bacterial infection which they'd begun treating with a different antibiotic; but even combined with fever-reducing medication, Killian's core temperature remained above 102 degrees. It just wouldn't budge and Emma was already fearing that this unknown infection was going to be as stubborn as Killian Jones himself.

With scarcely any charge left on her phone's battery, she fished through the backpack at her feet to locate the cord Joseph had given her yesterday, thankful when her fingers finally came in contact with it as she feared it may have been forgotten during the cacophony of the morning's events. It took a moment to find a useable electrical outlet in the tiny hospital room, spotting one beneath the very window she'd been staring at for the better part of the past hour. At least it was easily accessible and the sill was wide enough to hold her phone so she didn't have to place it on the floor. One little bright spot to this crappy day…

As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Emma pulled the cord that drew the vertical blinds closed so she'd no longer see her own haggard reflection in the glass. Night number two was now upon them and while she was trying to remain optimistic about Killian's recovery now that the dagger shard was safely out of his body, she couldn't shake a nagging feeling that his current state may have more to do with complications than an infection. Her eyes immediately darted to that offending piece of metal which sat, seemingly innocently, in the specimen jar Dr. Pineda had given her earlier.

What were they missing? Grandmother steadfastly believed that Killian was being attacked by evil spirits and as ridiculous as that sounded, they'd certainly experienced far stranger things – shadows, wraiths, giants, flying monkeys and hell, even a humongous snowman! Would the possibility of even spirits really be that much of a stretch?

She settled back down into the faux leather chair at her husband's bedside, unconsciously scraping at a loose piece of vinyl with her index fingernail when she heard the unexpected sounds – a sudden acceleration of the beeping coming from the machine measuring Killian's heart rate and a rapid, deep inhale as he abruptly came to. His eyes were open wide as his brain scrambled to make sense of his surroundings but they lacked their usual brilliance, appearing slightly more grey than blue in this light.

Emma quickly slid closer to him, taking hold of his hand to offer a bit of reassurance – and to temper any possible panic if he attempted to move that hand and wasn't able to. It took a few seconds for his gaze to meet hers and there was no mistaking the confusion and hint of fear she witnessed in his stare.

"I'm right here," she stated with a loving smile on her face and the calmest tone her voice could manage. "It's okay…"

He seemed to look through her for a moment until at last, a glint of recognition appeared. "Swan?"

"Yes, I'm right here." She could hear the electronic blip slowing as his anxiety settled and his heart stopped racing. She wondered what was going through his head right now.

"Where am I?" he asked. She'd expected that he would be disoriented when he woke so the question was hardly surprising.

"You're in the hospital recovering from surgery," she replied.

"Hospital?" Her response didn't seem to have cleared any of his confusion.

"Yes. A hospital near Phoenix. They repaired the damage from when you were stabbed." She hoped the additional reminder would aid his recollection, but instead, he only appeared more bewildered – especially when she mentioned  _Phoenix._

"Phoenix? What does that bloody bird have to do with my whereabouts?"

Wow, she thought, he must be under the influence of some really good drugs. "Not the bird. Phoenix is a city."

"City? Are we not in Storybrooke?"

He didn't remember falling through a portal? "No, we're not in Storybrooke. We're a long way from home…"

That statement didn't sit well with him, but he lacked the energy to argue. He was just very tired, very sore and for some reason, very chilly. "Why am I so cold?"

The question seemed a huge contradiction to the fever plaguing him, but the nurse had warned Emma that he might experience chills so she had brought a few extra blankets. It also seemed to be counter-intuitive to combating the fever, but keeping him comfortable must have been equally important.

"The nurse thought you might feel that way. Let me grab one of the blankets she brought for you." She hopped to her feet and took two long strides over to the counter where Bernadette had placed two lightweight, peachy-beige plush blankets. Emma grabbed the one on top and draped it over the light blue one that was already covering Killian's lower body before pulling all of the bedcovers up to his shoulders. "There. That should be better."

He mumbled something unintelligible while she attempted to fluff the pillows behind his head a little, but she paused when her fingers brushed his cheek. He might be feeling chilled, but his skin was still warm to her touch. He turned his head slightly, resting his chin against her now open palm as she watched his eyelids droop. It wasn't long before unconsciousness claimed him once again and as he faded back into that oblivion, she let out a deep sigh realizing she was going to be in for another very long night.

Shortly after he succumbed to sleep, the evening nurse, whose name escaped Emma's memory, arrived with a slew of questions about his brief period of consciousness. Emma tried her best to answer all of them while the nurse tended to Killian, replacing the nearly empty bag of IV fluids and administering another dose of medication in hopes of lowering his lingering fever. Emma really didn't have all of the answers the nurse wanted. She didn't recall how long he was awake – five, maybe ten minutes. The nurse wanted to know if he'd seemed disoriented or confused and her answer to both of those had been a definitive  _yes_. Emma had gotten the impression that Killian didn't even remember being stabbed but she chose not to mention it at this time since she knew there were so many other factors that might be coming into play here. His recollection of events might be a little foggy but he obviously had good reason.

By the time the nurse left, Emma had come to terms with the fact that she was going to have to leave him alone for a few minutes, unable to ignore her stomach's rumbling any longer. It was also time for her to call and update the family as well so once she'd purchased some pasta for dinner at the cafeteria, she wandered out to her favorite spot in the outdoor garden. Shoveling a forkful of pasta into her mouth, she dug her now fully charged phone from her pocket and dialed her father's number.

"Emma, honey, how are you doing?" Emma looked down at her screen to verify that she'd dialed her father's number when a different voice answered.

"Uh…, hi, Mom," Emma stammered, not expecting to hear her mother's voice. "Not much has changed here. Where's Dad?"

"He just got home from the station and went to change out of his wet clothes. It's been pouring rain here." Emma heard a slight rustling sound, then a muffled shout: "David…it's Emma!" as Snow called for her husband. "Sorry, honey, he'll be a minute. While I have you on the phone, why don't you tell me how Killian is doing? Your father told me that the tip of the dagger was lodged in his spine so we're all really worried about him…"

"It wasn't actually lodged in his spine, it was next to it, but thankfully, the nerve damage was minor. He's sleeping now, but he's still critical. They keep saying that the first 24 hours post-surgery could be rough and he's already running a fever. I just don't know, Mom…"

"He's pulled through worse than this," Snow reminded her, hoping to offer her daughter a little bit of reassurance but it wasn't really helping Emma as she couldn't recall any situation that he'd survived without magical intervention – except maybe the loss of his hand, but even that incident had involved Rumplestiltskin, so it wasn't the best example. "I'm sure he's going to pull through this just fine and we'll get you both back home very soon…" Snow continued with her pep talk, but Emma had already zoned out, not really hearing much more of what her mother was saying until she was wrapping it up. "Anyway, here's your father. Tell Killian that we hope he heals up quickly!"

"Thanks, Mom. I'll tell him the next time he's awake," Emma replied, although mostly to appease her ever-positive mother. Emma herself wasn't yet convinced that everything was going to turn out for the best.

"Overheard your mother giving you one of her patented Snow White pep talks," David said as he took over the phone.

"Guess she figured I needed one…"

"I wish we could be there with you, Emma," he lamented, his heart breaking at the sound of the sorrow in his daughter's voice. "Has there been any change?"

"Nothing really since I texted you," she informed him. "He woke up briefly, but seemed really confused. Don't think he even remembered that he'd been stabbed, but that could be the effect of the drugs. I just wish they could figure out what's causing his fever and get it to break. He just seems really sick right now and no one seems to know how to help him…"

"I might have an idea of what that might be…" David began, trying to come up with a way to best phrase what Regina suspected.

"An idea about what, Dad?"

"About what's making your husband sicker…"

"You do?" Emma asked skeptically.

"Regina came by the station earlier to get the dagger," David explained. "Belle wanted to get a better look at the symbols carved into it to help her try to figure out where it and the scepter might have originated. Anyway, as soon as Regina touched the dagger, she told me it was giving off a lot of powerful dark magic vibes."

"Dark magic? What would that have to do with Killian's fever?" Emma's tired mind wasn't making the connection.

"I told her about the broken piece that the doctors had to remove from Hook's chest and about the complications you'd mentioned. Regina thinks his symptoms might be residual dark magic that's manifesting itself somehow in the Land Without Magic. She said it could appear like an illness…"

"Which could include fever and chills like he's fighting now," Emma finished his statement, massaging her temples with her thumb and index finger while this new development sunk in. "So, how did she say to treat it?"

"You're going to have to call Regina on that front. She said something about putting together a potion that would help keep the dark magic at bay, but you really should talk to her to get more details."

"No wonder Grandmother Bending Willow thought that Killian was being attacked by evil spirits. Maybe she's somehow able to sense the dark magic?" Emma speculated.

"Maybe she is, but you'd best give Regina a call in the morning so she can give you more of the specifics. It sounded to me like there wouldn't be a way to cure him until you got back to Storybrooke, but at least whatever she's working on will help fight the symptoms."

"Okay, I know it's late back there so I'll let you go. I'll call Regina first thing in the morning and then I'll let you know what's going on. I'm going to head back up to my husband now so I'll talk to you tomorrow. Say goodnight to Mom for me too."

"Promise me you'll get some rest?"

"I promise you that I'll try. I'm really hoping for an uneventful night…"

"Okay, then. Talk to you tomorrow." David disconnected the call, but Emma stared blankly at the screen for a few seconds, almost too numb to move.

_Dark magic_. Even out here in what was supposed to be the Land Without Magic, it taunted her and without her own light magic to combat it, all she would be able to find would be temporary fixes. If Regina was able to create a potion that would halt its progress, it would certainly be an improvement. Maybe it would buy them a little additional time until they could somehow get back home. She knew what dark magic did. It infected, it consumed and it destroyed everything it touched and the mere thought of such darkness coursing through Killian's veins once again was terrifying, especially since he had absolutely no idea what was afflicting him.

Grandmother had warned of evil spirits attacking and in her own way, she was correct. Dark magic was like an evil spirit and the sooner she could exorcise it from her husband's body, the better, and she had a feeling she was going to need to enlist the old woman's help.

* * *

Emma's night became a restless one, made even more nerve-racking with the revelation that Killian could be under the influence of dark magic. She was rapidly failing in her attempts to remain positive. Several times during the night, she'd resisted the urge to call her parents, not wanting to sound desperate for their support even though it was exactly what she needed. Maybe it was partially rooted in fear that another of her mother's pep talks would turn her stomach, but in the back of her mind, she knew what was stopping her: she didn't want to remain positive. She wanted to wallow in remorse and sadness because she was feeling useless right now and she was slowly sensing herself being dragged into the pit of despair.

She was continually reminded that she'd spent most of her life not even knowing magic existed. While nothing had obviously gone perfectly, she'd managed to survive without supernatural powers. She'd always had her wits to rely on and they'd gotten her through the first 28 years of her life. Why then did she now feel so helpless without her powers? She knew she shouldn't feel as though part of herself was missing, yet in reality, a big part was. It was the portion of her heart that kept breaking every time she glanced over at her husband. His suffering was the constant reminder of her current inadequacy; she couldn't heal him, couldn't whisk away the dark magic infecting him.

By the time morning arrived, Emma was still exhausted, amazed she'd managed any sleep at all after witnessing Killian caught in the grip of yet another seizure brought on by another spike in his body temperature. Before the medication and cold compresses had begun to take effect, his fever had topped out at 105 degrees, lowered now to just under 103. Doctors and nurses had been in and out all night, warning her that Killian risked permanent damage if the fever didn't break soon. If they only knew what he was actually facing… The unnatural evil was spreading through Killian's body like a malignancy and it was gradually tightening its grip.

At least he appeared to be sleeping peacefully at the moment, she thought as she arched her back and tried to stretch out her aches and pains. A night spent sleeping a chair that didn't really recline hadn't been a pleasant experience, but she'd happily bear any discomfort if it meant she could remain by Killian's side.

She squinted at the painfully bright Arizona sun peeking through the vertical blinds. Before the glare became unbearable, she stood up and made her way to the window to close the blinds once again, not even certain when they'd been reopened. As she returned to the chair, she noticed that the beaded leather medicine pouch Grandmother had brought for Killian had fallen onto the floor, ending up beneath the nightstand likely during the chaos of the seizure. Emma dropped to her knees to retrieve the pouch and immediately noticed that the drawstrings had loosened, allowing one of the turquoise stones to tumble out. Scooping up both the pouch and the stray stone, she took at quick look at the contents inside the leather bag as she pushed herself back to her feet. There were two additional pieces of turquoise as well as a pair of other rocks she couldn't identify and upon closer inspection, she noticed one of the unidentified rocks had been carved into the shape of a bird.

She tucked the turquoise stone back into the pouch and tugged the drawstring closed. Her first thought was to place it atop the nightstand, but as she sat the leather bag onto the surface, her brain instantly told her  _NO._  It belonged atop Killian's chest - over his heart where Grandmother had placed it and that was where Emma returned it. She wasn't taking any chances with these evil spirits or this dark magic. She may not understand the Navajo woman's methods, but they could use every bit of help they could get.

Emma needed to talk to Regina this morning to find out more about the supposed potion she was brewing and how it was progressing and also to see if Belle had discovered anything else about the strange symbols on the scepter and the dagger. Had anyone figured out what the significance of the Blood Moon was? She had so many questions but figured there would likely be far fewer answers.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, I promise," she said as she stooped to place a kiss on her pirate's sweat-dampened forehead. "Maybe you'll wake up to talk to me for a little while when I get back?" She knew it was just wishful thinking but she clung to a little bit of hope.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new day begins in Phoenix and with it comes deepening mysteries.

Several miles away from the hospital where his victim lay unconscious, Nehemiah Kronk was also beginning his day, still bitter that he'd been forced to come up with a different tactic. He'd clearly been away from this realm for too long as he'd never been thwarted by someone so insignificant as the Scottsdale hospital's admission desk clerk. No one would have dared question a United States Marshal in his day, but perhaps too much had changed. Information traveled too fast and now, he didn't dare attempt that subterfuge again. He would need a new approach – one that wouldn't be scrutinized so closely in this overly suspicious environment.

He'd left the ill-fitting suit behind in the motel closet, changing into blue jeans and an oversized brown and red plaid, short-sleeved button down shirt. The color was a little flashier than the basic black business suit, but the style fit in much in the casual urban environment. He'd left the shirt tail untucked, finding that it was conveniently long enough to conceal a weapon if necessary, although he most often had to improvise as the weapon detecting machines seemed to be everywhere these days.

Yzma may have sent him through the portal in a rash attempt to secure what she believed was access to her gold (a foolish and impossible venture really) but Kronk had followed the wounded pirate and the blonde sheriff through for a different reason – one that had absolutely nothing to do with gold or any other riches. Donning a newly acquired pair of sunglasses, he stepped out into the Arizona sunshine and headed toward the bus stop at the end of the block. Public transportation gave him some degree of anonymity right now and he was wise enough never to go directly from one location to another. A couple of changes of buses might cut into his valuable time, but it made him far less traceable. If he needed to get somewhere in a hurry though, it wasn't too difficult to steal a car as he'd done to descend the mountain. Older model vehicles were much easier – less complicated doodads and doohickeys, but he generally settled for whatever he could access on short notice.

Only a few days remained in their window. The Blood Moon would rise tomorrow and if the portal wasn't properly activated within three sunsets, he'd have to wait another year to return. He didn't need Yzma's so-called powers to get back to the land she'd hoped to rule and honestly, he didn't really care if she returned with him. He'd already spent more than a lifetime perfecting the skill of pretending to do work for others when in truth, he was doing everything for his own benefit. He'd discovered the secret to how the dagger opened the portal to the Land of Plenty and he was so close to getting what he wanted. All he needed was that missing piece and a little bit of magic borrowed from Storybrooke and he would at last be the one in charge.

* * *

As she paid for her much needed cup of morning coffee, Emma suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. She must look an absolute fright after her rough, mostly sleepless night. She'd hastily pulled her messy blonde tresses into a ponytail but there wasn't much she could do about her wrinkled tee shirt. She could feel eyes staring at her, but maybe it was only in her own head. She was just a disheveled wife who'd spent the night at her ailing husband's side and she just had to stop being concerned about what anyone else thought.

She wandered back toward her favorite spot in the xeriscape garden, thankful that it was still early enough this morning that the desert heat was bearable. There was one unoccupied granite bench which was still being shaded by the building's shadow and she made her way over to it while fumbling to fish her cell phone out of her pocket without spilling her coffee. She located it and dialed Regina's number as she sat down, eager to get this call completed and return to Killian's side before she became any more apprehensive about what she might learn.

"Emma, I was beginning to think that David didn't give you the message," Regina answered the call with a touch of unwanted sarcasm that immediately put Emma on the defensive.

"He gave me the message last night. Would you rather have me call at midnight? It's a couple of hours earlier out here but since he said you might be able to shed some light on this dark magic that's affecting Killian, I'm calling hoping you'll have some answers. I don't have the time or the patience for cryptic guessing games or sarcastic comments."

"I guess you had a pretty rough night?" Regina asked, sounding slightly more empathetic after Emma's snappy reply.

"Rough would be a severe understatement. It's a little hard to sleep when you're constantly watching your husband's temperature, worried that the fever might trigger another seizure or worse, start climbing again which makes the threat of permanent damage greater. And I can't exactly tell all of these doctors and nurses that nothing they're doing for him will actually do a damned thing!"

"I'm sorry, Emma," Regina responded with what sounded like genuine concern. "Zelena and I were up 'til the wee hours last night working on a potion to offset some of the dark magic. It's not a cure, but it should help until you can get Hook back here. I just need a place to send the potion and I'll get it out to you."

"Ugh… I hadn't thought about that…," Emma groaned. "Let me talk to the park ranger who's been helping us and see if you can send it to him or to his grandmother. Dare I ask what form it will be in?"

"It's a liquid. I thought it best to disguise it as cough syrup. Hopefully your pirate will be able to drink it?"

"If he stays conscious long enough," Emma lamented, "but I'll deal with that issue once I have the potion in hand."

"Okay. Let me know as soon as possible. I have a courier on standby in Portland who can get it on a flight to Phoenix this afternoon or evening but they need to know before 3pm."

"That shouldn't be a problem. What time is it there now?". Emma asked, too tired to even attempt the time zone conversion.

"It's almost 10AM here," Regina answered. "You've got about five hours to get me an address or you won't have the potion until tomorrow."

"Alright, I'll call Carlos in a minute and see what he says. I'm sure he won't mind. By the way, while I've got you on the line, how much progress have you made toward maybe getting that portal reopened or finding out anything more about the dagger and scepter? Dad said you came to get the dagger last night."

"Haven't really gotten anywhere with the portal. Nothing that Zelena and I have tried seems to be working and Yzma won't tell us anything else. All Belle has been able to figure out is that the symbols carved into both objects appear to be… Oh, what did she call them? Meso or Mezzo American?"

"And that means?"

"Something about being similar to those found in Incan, Aztec and Mayan writing and artworks. I'm not going to comment on the significance of that, but Belle said both artifacts are really old and it looks like they depict the sun, moon, mountains, some bird-like creature and some kind of animal – a wolf maybe?"

"Or a coyote?" Emma suggested, the conversation with Grandmother about tricksters and evil spirits still very fresh in her mind.

"Could be a coyote… Just looks like a dog's head with lots of teeth. There are some other symbols she hasn't figured out yet, but she's working on it. All we know is that it somehow ties into the Blood Moon, but not quite sure what it means yet."

"I'm quite sure it means something important because I've heard more mentions of the Blood Moon in the past 24 hours than I care to remember. It's tomorrow night, right?"

"It is," Regina replied, "but then it doesn't rise again until next year."

"Do you think it means that wherever Yzma was trying to go can only be visited once a year?" Emma wondered.

"Definitely a possibility. Maybe travel to that realm only aligns with ours during the Blood Moon phase," Regina theorized. "I really don't know, but we can probably worry about that later. Yzma isn't going anywhere this year for sure. Right now, let's just focus on getting this little bottle of 'cough syrup' to you and we'll contend with the rest later."

"Alright. I'll call you back with the address as soon as I talk to Carlos." Emma disconnected the call with Regina and promptly dialed the number Ranger Littlecreek had provided. She was a little dismayed when the call went straight to his voicemail, but she left a message anyway. "Carlos, it's Emma. My friends back home need an address to ship an important package to me and I was wondering if they could send it to you or to Grandmother? It's nothing illegal, I promise. Call me as soon as you can so that we can get it to the courier. Thanks."

She disconnected the line wondering why she'd added the nothing illegal comment, figuring now Carlos would be even more curious about this important package. You're losing it, Swan, she muttered to herself, mimicking her husband's intonation as she stood, retrieving her coffee from the granite bench before strolling back indoors. The whole way back upstairs to the room, she kept mulling over the information Regina had provided about the mysterious symbols on the dagger and its companion scepter. She couldn't get the thought out of her head now after Regina's mention of the dog-like symbol and the immediate connection her brain had made to the coyote Grandmother had spoken of. It was crazy to think that the two could be tied together somehow, yet at the same time, Emma wasn't prepared to dismiss them as mere coincidence. Without a doubt, there was something nagging at her, begging her to find a connection so Emma decided that perhaps she needed another set of eyes. She needed Sarah Bending Willow to view those symbols and see what wisdom she could impart.

She rapidly tapped the redial button as she stepped from the elevator, remaining in the corridor as she left yet another message for Carlos. "Emma again. Forget calling me back about the address. I need to know if you and Grandmother can swing by the hospital this morning instead? There are some things that I need you to take a look at and rather we do it in person. If you can, you know where to find me." As soon as she hit the END button, she opened up her text messages and sent Regina a question, asking if she could send detailed photographs of the dagger and scepter so she could have her Navajo friend look them over. Regina replied almost immediately to let Emma know that Belle had both objects but that she would have the librarian send pictures to Emma as soon as possible. Emma didn't elaborate any further about why she wanted to show them to Grandmother and thankfully, Regina didn't ask for an in-depth explanation of why Emma needed them. Maybe Regina figured bringing Grandmother's experience into the mystery was a good idea since they weren't really getting very many answers.

She was hopeful that Carlos would get the message soon and head here to meet with her, and with luck, Belle would message the photos to her before he arrived. She didn't really want to waste time relaying Regina's lackluster description when she needed the real images.

But now, she let it all slip from her mind as she entered Killian's room, tucking the phone away into her pocket to avoid the evil eye of the young nurse who had her stethoscope pressed to Killian's chest. The nurse stepped to her left as Emma hovered in the doorway and as she got a look at her husband's face, she could see a flash of blue. Killian was awake! Her excitement was tempered though fearing he might not be any more coherent than he was yesterday.

"Oh, Mrs. Jones," the nurse spoke up as she noticed Emma behind her. "I didn't realize you were there…" The young woman seemed slightly embarrassed although Emma couldn't fathom why she would be. She was simply doing her job and it wasn't as though Emma had announced her arrival.

"Didn't mean to startle you," Emma apologized. "I just got back from the cafeteria. How's he doing this morning?" She hoped that the nurse wouldn't pick up on her failing attempt to sound more chipper than she actual was.

"His blood pressure is back to normal – although on the high side of normal, likely due to the lingering effect of the fever. Temperature is a little lower today – 101.8, but we're definitely trying to get that down even further. Doctor ordered some additional blood tests so we'll be drawing a few more vials of blood in a bit and thankfully, that's gotten easier now that he's no longer so dehydrated."

"More blood tests?" Emma asked, barely masking her frustration. "Hasn't anything come back yet?"

"From what I've read in his chart," the nurse began, "every test we've run so far has come back negative or inconclusive in our search for what's causing this lengthy fever. The infection around his wound is responding to the antibiotics and is healing nicely, but there's definitely something else affecting him. We're testing for some less common viral and bacterial infections. Anyway, either myself or another one of the nurses will be back in a few minutes to get those blood samples for the lab…"

"As if you haven't taken enough," Killian stated, his voice barely more than a coarse whisper. "I look like I've been battling a porcupine or been impaled by shrapnel…" Emma noticed that he was able to raise his arm, frowning at the multitude of bruises that extended from his wrist to above the bend of his elbow. His wrist was no longer tethered to the bed as the fear of him dislodging the IV must have lessened.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Jones," the nurse replied rather unapologetically. "I know you feel like a pin cushion, but we're doing our best to find out what's making you so sick. These post-surgical complications can be difficult to sort out sometimes."

"And we appreciate all that you're doing to make him healthy again," Emma said, faking a smile while hoping the nurse would hurry up and leave so she could have a conversation with her husband while he was still actually lucid.

"Be back in a jiffy," the nurse announced with a saccharine smile of her own. Her use of the word  _jiffy_ instantly drew a frown from Emma. "I'll bring the next dose of your meds, too." Killian gave a weak nod of acknowledgement as the nurse headed out of the doorway. There was still a huge smile on the brunette woman's face as she passed Emma who attempted to reciprocate the expression, but Emma just couldn't force any more fake happiness this morning. She was simply too exhausted and too overwhelmed with other emotions to bother. All that mattered to Emma right now was taking full advantage of however scant many minutes she might have with Killian before he slipped into unconsciousness again.

"Hey, you. I was surprised to see you awake, especially after the night you had…," Emma whispered into his ear as she leaned in to kiss him. She almost let out a giggle when her nose brushed against the plastic oxygen tubing stretched across the lower half of his face, but she didn't as she realized what a complete idiot she sounded like. He probably didn't even remember most of yesterday's happenings. Instead of shoving her foot deeper into her mouth, she chose to quietly take a seat next to him on the bed while trailing her fingers along his jawline which brought a lopsided grin to his lips.

"Trying hard to stay awake…," he replied, making an unsuccessful attempt to shift his position on the mattress before conceding defeat and sinking back against the pillow. "Any idea why I woke to find a bag of rocks lying atop my chest?" He unfurled his fingers to reveal the beaded leather pouch from Grandmother. Of course, he wouldn't know what it was there for.

"They're turquoise stones," she explained, "along with some other stuff that Grandmother Bending Willow insisted would help ward off evil spirits. She's convinced you're under attack, and her belief might not be too far off from the truth…"

"Evil spirits, you say? Might be a decent explanation as to why I feel so bloody awful." He paused there, wanting to spare her the details, not wanting to reveal that his lungs burned like he'd just breathed in fire and brimstone from the bowels of Hell. He didn't want her pity. He'd gotten himself into this mess by letting his own guard down.

"There's a lot more to it than that," Emma sighed, trying to figure out what to say next. How did she tell him the truth?

"That young nurse advised that I have an infection somewhere that's likely impeding my recovery."

"It's probably not quite that simple…," she stammered, desperate to find the right words. "This fever you're fighting, it may be a side effect, but not of the surgery. It's probably from the dagger."

"Swan, you're not making any sense…," he groaned. "My head hurts enough already without struggling to make sense of your rambling…"

"I'm trying to figure out a way to explain this rationally," she responded as her pent-up frustration bubbled its way to the surface which led her to simply blurt out the bare facts. "You're probably under the influence of dark magic." She couldn't judge by his expression if he was confused or just stunned by her blunt outburst, but after several seconds of uncomfortable silence, she could see the gradual changes to his facial features as he processed her statement.

"Dark magic? What sort of dark magic?"

"Unfortunately, we don't know that yet," she answered honestly as she instinctively reached down to wrap her fingers around his. "Regina said that the dagger was radiating darkness when my dad gave it to her. When you were stabbed, the piece that broke off apparently left traces of that dark magic inside you. Here in the Land Without Magic, it manifests like a sickness – like your fever. Not sure what effect it would have had on you back in Storybrooke, but at least there, I could have healed it. Anyway, Regina and Zelena brewed a potion that will help keep the dark magic away until we get home. It won't remove it completely though so we still have to get you well enough to get home and this definitely isn't helping…"

"How will she get this potion to you?"

"She's sending a courier. I'm just waiting to hear from Carlos so Regina has an exact place to send it."

"It will help take away this pain and weakness?" Killian asked, stammering through the question, grimacing as the last word crossed his lips.

"I don't know," she told him as straightforwardly as she could. "I don't know if it will take away the pain or just make it more bearable…" She stopped there as he no longer appeared interested in the answer. He'd squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath and clearly showing signs of distress. "Killian, do you want me to call the nurse back? Maybe she can get you something else for the pain?"

"Just… hurts…" He could barely mouth the two words as his breathing became increasingly faster and shallower.

Not again, Emma thought. Not another seizure. Please let it not be another seizure was the prayer on repeat in her brain. "Killian?" she called out to him, hoping she could keep him conscious and talking. "Just keep talking, Killian. Keep talking to me…" She kept saying it over and over again in her head, but it didn't seem to be working. He wasn't focusing on her voice and she wasn't sure why. "C'mon, Killian, talk to me…"

"Hurts… to… breathe…" he stuttered, his arms drawing tighter across his bandaged chest. No, this wasn't a seizure, it was something else and it had Emma a little frightened again, especially when a loud beeping sound blasted from one of the machines surrounding him (not that she knew which one). The alarm immediately drew the attention of the other nurse who'd been seated at the desk. She wasted no time hurrying to her patient, pressing what appeared to be a random button on a panel above Killian's head then pursing her lips as she must not have liked the reading that appeared on the monitor.

"What's wrong?" Emma demanded, already well aware that this probably was yet another manifestation of the dark magic, but she still needed to know what damage it was causing this time. The nurse grabbed the oxygen mask hanging near the head of the bed, flipping a switch on the same overhead panel as she eased the cannula away from his nostrils and positioned the transparent mask over his entire nose and mouth, trying to increase his oxygen intake.

"He's in respiratory distress," the nurse explained as she pressed yet another button on that panel, illuminating a blue light both on that panel as well as one outside of the room above the door. "He isn't getting enough oxygen into his bloodstream. Has he been showing any signs of shortness of breath?"

"We were just talking a moment ago, right after the other nurse left. He seemed fine, then suddenly, he started clutching his chest and saying it hurt to breathe," Emma replied as a man and another woman wearing medical scrubs entered the room behind her.

"Okay, Mrs. Jones," the nurse began as she ushered Emma toward the doorway. "You'll need to step outside for a while, but I promise you, we'll take good care of him." The helpless feeling crept back into her mind as she was backed into the corridor. First, the dark magic gave him a raging fever and now, it was affecting his lungs? Just how powerful was that dagger?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this story, Kronk is definitely not just Yzma's clueless sidekick and in fact, I've written their roles nearly reversed for reasons which will become clear in upcoming chapters. Kronk has a very specific motivation regarding his Land of Plenty and we'll soon find out what that has to do with this specific area of Arizona. Emma, in the meantime, has quite a bit on her hands and doesn't like feeling that she's a step behind. I dropped a few small clues in this chapter about the dagger and its history and expect Grandmother to have a lot to say about it in the next chapter.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Been a little behind on writing this past month, but I finally managed to get this latest chapter finished. Not a lot of action in this installment, but there's definitely going to be a lot of subjects covered and a lot revealed - including the part where I started playing around with some of the real legends of the Superstition Mountains. I'll be weaving these real myths of the Southwest into my narrative as we move forward along with a few more surprises to come!

The moment she and grandson, Carlos, stepped from the elevator, Sarah Bending Willow instinctively knew something was amiss – even before she spotted a visibly shaken Emma standing in the corridor outside of her husband's hospital room. The younger woman's eyes were puffy and her cheeks streaked with too many shed tears, but while Grandmother was the first to sense Emma's pain, Carlos was the first to vocalize concern.

"Emma? What's going on?" he asked as he quickened his pace to reach his law enforcement colleague and new friend only to have Grandmother grab a fistful of his shirt to pull him back. He knew what that meant as he stopped and allowed his grandmother to approach Emma first.

"I fear the evil spirits are upon you once again," Grandmother stated, clasping Emma's left hand between both of her own as she noted the redness in the young woman's eyes from sadness and sleeplessness.

"It's definitely something evil," Emma scoffed, gaze still fixed on the flurry of activity around Killian's bedside. "I don't even know what they're doing… The nurse said he was in respiratory distress, whatever that means, and they won't tell me what's going on… They just shoved me out here and all I can do is watch…"

"Come, you should sit," Grandmother insisted, calmly trying to guide Emma away from the corridor. "We can talk about all of this…" Emma only heard a few of the elder woman's words though as the curtains blocking her view were pulled back and she realized that Killian's bed was being wheeled toward her. The nurse who'd responded to the alarm approached Emma with an emotionless expression and Emma wriggled free of Grandmother's comforting hold so she could rush to Killian's side, unsure of where they were taking him or why.

"Is everything okay?" Emma asked nervously, fatigue and anxiety both increasing her eagerness for an answer. "Where are you taking him?"

"He's doing better with the increased oxygen supplement and some new medication, but it's looking like the infection we're chasing may be settling into his lungs," the nurse explained. "The doctor wants to get some images of his lungs to make sure that we're not seeing the early signs of pneumonia so we're taking him down to Radiology. It shouldn't take long…"

"May I go with him?" Emma pleaded.

"I'm afraid not, but I promise, we'll have him back soon," the nurse replied. Emma didn't really want to be separated once again, but as she stared at the pale shell that was her husband's wounded body, the side of her still capable of logical thinking understood. She could tell that he wasn't completely conscious. His eyes were partially open but there was only a sliver of the usual vibrant blue hue visible and no discernable hint of recognition, merely a vacant stare.

"I'll be right here when you get back," Emma whispered her promise as she trailed her fingertips across his scarred, stumped forearm just before Grandmother stepped toward her once again, placing her withered hand on Emma's shoulder.

"Come, child," Grandmother urged. "Let's all go sit down and we will talk. You said on the phone that you had urgent matters to discuss?"

"Umm, yeah…" Emma stammered as she fought to regain her composure as she watched Killian disappear through a set of automatic doors. She wiped at her dampened eyes with the back of her hand, slightly embarrassed at her emotional display although neither Grandmother nor Carlos appeared to take offense. "We can't talk here though. Need somewhere private…"

"How about we go out to my truck again?" Carlos suggested to which Emma nodded in agreement. This was another conversation that did not need any prying ears.

* * *

As Emma recalled from her last conversation with Carlos Littlecreek in this parking garage, the area wasn't entirely private. For whatever reason, today seemed to be an exceptionally busy day for patients and visitors to be coming and going from the hospital so there were far more people wandering around that she would have preferred. A steady stream of cars snaked around the bend behind them, some drivers throwing frustrated glances their way when they realized that the parking spot wasn't going to be vacated.

From the back seat of the huge Suburban, Emma revealed all that she'd learned since yesterday – everything that validated Grandmother's concerns. Dark magic. Evil spirits. Might as well be the same thing in Emma's book as neither was making anything easy for them. She explained her need for a place to have Regina's dark magic fighting potion delivered and Carlos immediately provided the address of the National Parks Service field office where he worked as he knew that someone would be there late into the evening. He let her know that he'd swing by to retrieve the parcel once delivered and return it to the hospital. Emma relayed the address to Regina via a text message and got a reply minutes later that Regina had advised the courier was on their way to pick up the package and an update would be provided as soon as the potion was on its way to Phoenix.

Knowing that the much-needed potion was soon going to be in her hands, Emma could finally relax a bit so she turned the topic of conversation to the other subject she'd sought out Grandmother's expertise with – the mysterious dagger itself. Belle had emailed a file containing multiple, detailed images of both the broken dagger and its companion scepter and as Emma thumbed through them briefly before showing Grandmother, she found herself tensing a bit at the sight of the bloodstained blade. Emma steeled herself, blinking away a stubborn tear as she passed the phone to Carlos in the driver's seat with the first full-length image of the dagger displayed on the screen.

"What do the two of you make of the designs carved into the handles of these?" Emma asked as Carlos positioned the phone so that both he and Grandmother could clearly see the photographs. "Our librarian thought that the images resemble those from early Central and South American cultures like the Incans and the Mayans, but not exactly like theirs…"

"This is the blade your husband was stabbed with?" Grandmother asked, although there was little doubt considering that its missing point matched the piece sitting in a specimen jar up in Killian's room perfectly.

"Yes. It's the one that Nehemiah Kronk used and then must have dropped before following us through the portal. There are photos of the matching scepter that Yzma used to open the portal as well."

The old woman studied the photo displayed on the tiny screen for a few seconds, then gestured for Carlos to swipe to the next image. Emma tried to read the expression on Grandmother's time-worn face, but the elder woman's stoic concentration revealed nothing.

"The symbols are ones very commonly used in the ancient glyphs of many cultures," Grandmother began. "This one, for instance, this circle with half depicted in relief represents the moon. The full circle below with the radiant lines is, of course, the sun. The two are quite often depicted together to demonstrate light and dark." She pointed to the images on the screen as she described each in more detail. "The third image is an animal, canine for certain, but what specific member of the canine family, I cannot be certain. It may be representative of a wolf, a common dog or even the Trickster himself. It also bears resemblance to the Egyptian Anubis – the jackal-headed god. I don't know if it is Anubis the craftsman chose to depict here, but the resemblance is highly unusual."

"What about the bird and the other designs here – like those repetitive patterns?" Emma queried.

"The bird could be one of a number of different varieties as well," Grandmother stated. "It may perhaps represent an eagle or a hawk or it may be something less common like a condor, although that would be unlikely."

Carlos noticed something in the third image that caught his attention as he shifted in his seat to get a closer look. "That symbol below the bird – I've seen that somewhere before…" he spoke up as he zoomed in on the specific part of the photo that had drawn his eye. "It was out on the glyph trail… I'm sure that exact symbol is carved into one of the rock outcrops out on Petroglyph trail."

Emma leaned forward to see over the seat at the image he was referring to, blanching slightly at the sight of the enlarged image of a stylized spiral. "Oh, my god…" she exclaimed in momentary disbelief when recognition kicked in.

"What?" Carlos asked, confused by Emma's reaction to the strange glyph.

"You said you've seen this exact image carved out here somewhere?" Emma asked for clarification.

"I sure have," Carlos replied. "It's out on an old hiking trail, out in the middle of the Superstition mountains. We closed down the trail a few years back because tourists were damaging the delicate site. Some of the petroglyphs out there date to one of the earliest Native civilizations, the Anasazi, but while the carvings are attributed to the Anasazi, some experts weren't sure. There's been some debate about what that particular symbol was supposed to represent but the consensus was that it's a whirlpool. They form occasionally in the nearby Salt River during heavy rains, so it wasn't a huge stretch…"

"I don't think that's a carving of a whirlpool," Emma stated with conviction. "I'm pretty sure that's a portal."

"A portal?" Carlos asked, incredulously. "Like the one you and your husband came through?"

"Exactly like one," Emma responded. "I guess it would make sense. We know the dagger and the scepter are really old. Maybe the ancient people here knew how to use them to open up a portal to… well, somewhere…?"

"It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility," Grandmother spoke up. "As I have told you before, these mountains were once ripe with magic. Our people once believed it was possible to travel to travel to different worlds so what you've just described isn't altogether surprising."

"Is this trail anywhere near where Killian and I landed?" Emma wondered. "Anywhere near that Ranger station we found?"

"You mean the one you broke into?" Carlos laughed. "It's a few miles from that sub-station. Does that mean anything?"

"I'm not sure, but pieces like this are slowly beginning to help make sense out of how we got here," Emma responded. "If there was an ancient portal out there, maybe whatever Yzma did with the scepter opened it back up?"

"If the scepter is the object that opened your portal," Grandmother said cryptically, causing both Carlos and Emma to turn to face her with the same befuddled expression.

"What do you mean by that?" Emma was the first to ask.

"I am not a scholar of ancient cultures by any means, but based solely on knowledge of my own people's history, the scepter does not fit," the old woman insisted before continuing with her interpretation. "I may be incorrect, but I don't believe that your sorceress, Yzma, had anything to do with opening the portal."

"But she was wielding the scepter when the portal opened," Emma reminded Grandmother. "It had to be her magic."

"I believe that it may have been purely a misdirect, child," the elder woman chuckled, leaving Emma even more baffled than before. "Let me explain… First, this knife that is pictured, while the carvings on its handle appear to be the same as the ones on the scepter, they're both highly unusual. They have the appearance of being reminiscent of early civilizations of the Americas, but not exact in design. Second, most Natives, and I am assuming the same of these other early cultures, fashioned their knives from bone or obsidian. This blade is forged – from iron, steel or bronze or whatever metal the blacksmith chose the day it was cast. The design of the blade itself also reflects influence from outside of the Americas as it is far too stylized to be practical, meaning it was purely ceremonial in use. As you may know, many of the early civilizations here in the Americas were practitioners of human sacrifice. This dagger was likely a part of one of those ceremonies, but the scepter would have served no purpose. Perhaps the set was once a gift from representatives of another visiting civilization?"

Carlos swiped to the next image in the set as they tried to digest Grandmother's theory. The next photo was another image of the entire length of the dagger, from the missing tip to the inlaid ruby at the base of the handle. Emma stared at the dagger's image absentmindedly, thinking about how it now made sense that neither Regina nor Zelena had been able to reactivate the scepter if it had never been the item that controlled the portal. The question did remain as to whether Yzma herself knew the scepter wasn't the catalyst. If she did, why then was she storming down the middle of Main Street brandishing the useless object?

Unless…

"Carlos, would you zoom in on the hilt for me?" Emma asked, he mind racing as he did as she requested. Leaning forward as far as she could from the rear seat, she studied the enlarged image for a second. In close up, the now-dried flecks of Killian's blood darkened portions of the blade, spilling across the hilt and into the grooves of the first carving on the handle – across the one that Grandmother had identified as representing the moon. In an instant, it all made sense to Emma. Everything she'd learned about magic and magical objects over the course of past few years reminded her that there was no such thing as coincidence and she found herself seeing a huge piece of the portal mystery unraveling. "It was the dagger…" Emma whispered in realization, not even certain if the others heard the breakthrough.

"I believe you are correct, child," Grandmother responded with a slight nod of her chin. She'd already reached that conclusion and knew it was only a matter of time before Emma found the truth as well. Only Carlos remained bewildered.

"Am I missing something here?" Carlos asked. "This all just went right over my head…"

"The dagger was what opened the portal," Emma revealed, shrinking back into the upholstery. "Killian's blood activated it."

"Your husband getting stabbed is what brought you here to Arizona?" Carlos was still confused how that might have happened, but he was trying to wrap his senses around it. "Do you think the guy who stabbed him knew it was gonna work that way? Wouldn't that make it premeditated?"

"I can't really say for sure if Kronk knew that stabbing Killian would open the portal," Emma replied. "He'd been fighting with my father too while Regina and I kept Yzma occupied. If they did know they needed blood on the dagger to open the portal, I don't think it would have mattered whose blood they spilled. This is slowly starting to make more sense…"

"Okay, then how about you explain this to me?" he demanded. "I'm still completely lost here." He hadn't found it quite as easy to make the connection that the two women had.

"Look – the first symbol carved into the dagger's handle is a moon," Emma began, her words coming out rapidly as she tried to relay it in a way that he would understand. "When Grandmother talked about the early civilizations practicing blood sacrifices, all of the mentions I've heard about this blood moon suddenly clicked. Look at the blood stains on the blade and the handle: they extend over the hilt and onto that first carving of the moon…"

"And you think that the blood spilling onto that glyph at the right time of the year opened your portal and brought you to our mountains?" Carlos found the thought of it rather perplexing, but after everything else he'd learned about this blonde woman and her husband, why would this be any more of a stretch?

"I highly doubt that Arizona was the intended destination," Emma clarified. "I don't think that either Yzma or Kronk would have had this place in mind, but aside from that little glitch, I'm pretty sure that the blood hitting that carving was precisely what triggered the portal opening."

"Could this dagger then bring you home?" Grandmother questioned, causing the interior of the SUV to fall silent for a moment.

"I don't know," Emma sighed after a few seconds of thought. "Even if the dagger weren't already broken, I don't have my magic here. I don't know how I would get it to work…"

"I still believe that you are the white witch revealed in my vision so long ago and if that is true, when the time comes, you will find what you seek," the old woman assured Emma.

"I suppose I'd better call Regina again and see if she can send the dagger along with the potion she whipped up. I'm willing to try just about anything at this point to save my husband's life – especially with Kronk out there looking for us. If there's something out there that will help me open that portal and get us back to Storybrooke, I'll try, but I know I'm going to need some help finding it."

"You know, I wonder if all of this ties into that swirly glyph, the one you think is a portal? I know I saw it out on the petroglyph trail so maybe there's some significance to it?" Carlos thought aloud. "The land out there is sacred to the Apache. Would you mind if I showed these to my friend, Tim? I'd like to find out what his people thing that swirling glyph represents…"

"Sure. Anything would be helpful right now. I'll forward the pictures to your phone," Emma agreed.

"If that really does indicate a portal or something, it's gonna potentially give a whole new meaning to some of this area's most famous legends," Carlos said with a flustered shake of his head.

"Okay, I think I'm the one confused now," Emma responded, not understanding how the dagger and portal that brought her here would have anything to do with their local legends.

"There are many legends that have grown out of these mountains," Grandmother mused. "Several involve tales of men who vanished into the desert and mountainous wilderness of the Superstitions, some who returned inexplicably weeks or months later with unexplained riches and others who never returned."

Carlos picked up the tale from that point. "One of the most famous is the story that inspired the Lost Dutchman State Park. While there are multiple versions of the story, the basic one was that in the late 1800s, a German immigrant wandered off alone out into the deserted Superstition mountains, returning some time later with a fortune in gold ore. It's probably the most famous tale of men who ventured out in search of riches, but there are tons of others about lost treasures out there."

"Sounds like something that would be right up Killian's alley," Emma chuffed.

"Probably – I'm sure he's had plenty of experience with hidden treasures and maps," Carlos laughed at the reminder that the Killian Jones he knew was once the legendary Captain Hook himself. "Anyway, there's one legend about a supposed Apache gold mine that dates back to the 1850s, but the Apache people insist no such mine ever existed. Of course, nothing's ever been found." He paused to massage his temples for a moment, overwhelmed by the stream of thoughts coursing through his mind. "If this portal theory is to be believed, these legendary 'mines' might simply have been gateways to other lands? Maybe one where gold was plentiful?"

"I can't really answer that for sure, but its certainly plausible," Emma replied. "It would actually make sense in a way, especially when you think about people disappearing in the mountains and then inexplicably returning."

"If this ceremonial knife is connected to the possibility of hidden entrances and mysterious portals to other lands that may lie out there in out mountains, then you definitely should have your family send the knife to you," Grandmother reiterated.

"I agree," Emma stated as Carlos returned her phone. "I'll call Regina before I head back upstairs and if the courier hasn't picked up the potion yet, I'll have her package up the broken dagger as well. Not sure what I'll be able to do with it, but with or without magic, I want it here in my hands."

"You will find what you need when it is time," Grandmother assured Emma once again. "Right now, the most important place you are needed will be at your husband's side. He is far from being out of danger and I will be happy to stay with you should you need a shoulder to lean on."

"I would greatly appreciate that," Emma smiled. "Let me see if I can explain why I need the dagger shipped too and then we can head back upstairs." Emma couldn't wait to hear Regina's objections to this one…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a huge mystery buff and I love both real and fictional tales. These real-life legends such as the Lost Dutchman's mine and others were a huge part of the inspiration for this fic and while I've just touched on them in this chapter, my explanation for their part in this fantasy story is coming.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haven't had a whole lot of time to work on writing over the past few weeks, but I finally found some time to get this chapter finalized. It's a little shorter than some of the prior chapters but we have a couple of important interactions here for Emma: first with Grandmother Bending Willow and later, with Killian. It's a little dash of fluff and a little dash of angst as Emma comes to the realization that some big decisions will need to be made soon.

After a lengthy but ultimately successful argument with Regina, Emma had the Queen's promise that the dagger would soon be on its to Arizona. Emma's explanation as to why she needed it hadn't been particularly easy; their theory was certainly far-fetched at best but it was the most plausible reasoning they had and thankfully, Regina was persuaded to humor Emma's crazy idea. Now, half an hour after the conversation with Regina ended, Emma and Grandmother Bending Willow sat in Killian's sharing their own quiet repartee until the vibration from Emma's cell phone interrupted them. Glancing at the screen, Emma could see that it was a lengthy text from Regina informing her that the courier had just departed Storybrooke and was now heading to Portland to put the package on a plane bound for their distribution center in Philadelphia. From there, the package would be transferred onto another aircraft to Phoenix and was expected to arrive there approximately 6:30pm Mountain Time.

Still wishing there had been a magical (and faster) way to get this incredibly important package here, Emma typed out a brief response, knowing in her own mind that these next few hours would be an anxiety-ridden waiting game. She could only imagine what story Regina had given the courier upon handing over a package containing not only the potion which was cleverly concealed inside tiny plastic prescription bottles Dr. Whale had provided but a very old and very sharp ornate ceremonial dagger. Hopefully, Mayor Mills had stressed the importance of the contents enough to impart a little fear into the courier – enough to ensure a safe, timely arrival. Regina had advised earlier that she had prepared enough potion for two doses and each was disguised as cough medicine should there be any scrutiny. The dagger had been identified as a historical object being sent for authentication through the National Parks Service representative who had located it through the assistance of the Storybrooke Historical Society. The latter organization didn't actually exist, but it provided a legitimate cover story to convince the courier to accept the weapon.

So now it was all about waiting. Emma was no stranger to waiting around, having spent many a sleepless night staking out a skip, but this experience was testing her patience. Killian's life was being threatened, both by the very real physical wounds as well as magically through the effects of the dagger's dark magic and there was no easy way to help him. Even with Grandmother's offer to stay and keep her company, Emma was anxious and this was going to be an aggravatingly long day, especially if Killian didn't wake soon. The longer he remained unconscious, the more Emma worried he might not wake at all. She'd honestly been surprised that he was already back in the room when they returned from the garage – even more so to discover that the doctors hadn't put the breathing tube back down his throat. Not being intubated made it slightly less of a battle to get the potion into him but he still had to actually be conscious to drink it.

Grandmother had done her best to help quell the evil spirits she sensed surrounding Killian. She'd added an additional turquoise stone and a few additional items to the medicine pouch including a tiny bundle of dried leaves bound with a thin piece of straw and another carved amulet, although Emma didn't get a close enough look at the stone to see what it resembled. The old woman drew the leather cord tightly closed again and repositioned atop Killian's chest.

"He is weak right now, but he still has much fight in him," Grandmother insisted as she hovered above his slumbering form. "These spirits have not been kind, but their time will soon pass. Time is short however as the Blood Moon will soon rise."

"It's tonight, isn't it?" Emma asked aloud, even though she already knew the answer.

"Yes, only a few hours from now," the elder woman replied.

"So, if we calculate that it's been three days since Yzma started all of this, then we've got three days left in our window of opportunity to re-open the portal," Emma thought out loud. "Assuming we can locate the right spot out in the vast expanse of desert and mountains where the magic might be strong enough…" Her sleep-deprived brain was running on overload as she contemplated all of the possibilities and probabilities that needed to align just perfectly to activate the portal. Not exactly as simple as tossing a damned bean. "And this is assuming that I can somehow summon the magic out of the mountains too and magically repair that broken dagger… Who am I kidding? I could rent a car and we'll be home in three or four days… but…"

Grandmother had a faint smile stretching across her lips as she placed a reassuring hand atop Emma's shoulder. She sensed the younger woman's apprehension and didn't envy any of the decisions Emma would need to make, but she knew her place was to guide Emma toward the right choices. "You've not made that decision because you fear he wouldn't survive the journey." She wanted Emma to know that she understood her hesitation to use such non-traditional methods – such untested methods. "I do see how these decisions are vexing you. No journey will be without risk, but I have felt a strength in you that is unlike any other being I've encountered. Listen to your heart. Listen to Killian's heart. There, you will find the answers you seek and you will be able to chose the correct path."

Emma tipped her head upward so that her gaze met the Navajo woman's warm and understanding brown eyes. Almost at once, Emma no longer felt the same insecurity and sadness. Something about those wise, knowing eyes filled her aching soul with a few moments of peace.

"Thank you," Emma said as she wiped at her tear-stained cheeks with the back of her hand. "I honestly can't thank you and Carlos enough for all you've done for us. You opened your home to a couple of strangers and believed my crazy stories about who we are and how we got here. I feel like we've known both of you forever and somehow, you seem to know me so well."

"I have always believed that people are brought into our lives for a specific reason. It may not always be clear what that reason may be at first, but there may always be some greater purpose." Grandmother's words certainly spoke to the wisdom of her years, yet while she couldn't quite figure out why, Emma's head told her there might be some other unknown connection. No matter what they might share though, nothing could disguise Emma's obvious fatigue and Grandmother's maternal instinct took over. "Now, I know you must be exhausted, child. It may be a while before your husband wakes and you should use that time to rest. You sleep for a while and I will wake you when he does."

"Okay," Emma replied with a weak nod of her bedraggled blonde head. "I'm not even going to argue." She sank back into the chocolate colored vinyl armchair trying to find a comfortable position. "I don't know if I'll actually sleep, but I'll still try." Grandmother grinned at the younger woman as located the spare blanket in the cabinet and handed it to Emma. There was no fooling this old woman. She knew Emma would be sound asleep in a matter of minutes – and she wasn't wrong.

* * *

The gentle nudge barely registered to Emma. The sensation of a hand upon her shoulder dissolved into her dreamscape until the sound of her name being called at last roused her from her deep sleep.

"I'm awake…" Emma stammered. "I'm awake…" She repeated the mantra as she stretched her cramped legs and twisted her torso as she attempted to work out the uncomfortable kink in her spine that came from sleeping in a chair with her knees nearly drawn up to her chest. She tried to remember if Storybrooke had a chiropractor because she was definitely going to need one once they returned home.

"Good afternoon," Grandmother's soft, calming voice replied. "I hope you had a good rest, but I knew you would like to know that your husband has awakened as well."

"Killian's awake?" Emma bolted upright, aches, pains and lingering drowsiness forgotten as her eyes darted immediately to the bed to her left.

"He is indeed, but he is still very weak," Grandmother warned. "He's been drifting in and out of consciousness for about an hour, but he seems to be coherent now. His mind is much sharper than you described earlier and he even remembered my name, although perhaps the spirits reminded him of that. We will not worry about those spirits right now though and I will give the two of you some privacy. Would you like me to bring something back for you later? You must be starving, child…"

"Coffee would be wonderful," Emma responded with a gracious smile. "Not sure about anything else… I haven't really thought about food, although I'd never turn down a good grilled cheese sandwich."

The old woman grinned, happy to see Emma's spirits lightening somewhat now that Killian had awakened. His battle was still far from over and Grandmother had made a vow that she would remain here to aid this couple until the evil was dispatched.

Killian had only heard portions of their conversation, his eyes still closed as he forced himself to remember where he was and what he'd been through. He was struggling with the tempting pull of the darkness and its pain-free bliss, but he knew he needed to be awake. Needed to let his wife know that there was still plenty of fight in him. "Swan?" His voice may have been raspy and barely audible, but it was a sound that didn't cease to make Emma smile.

"I'm right here," she replied, grasping his trembling outstretched hand. His skin was still far too warm and as he turned his head toward her and allowed his eyelids to open slowly against the assault of the bright overhead lights, Emma was heartbroken to discover that his eyes didn't seem as blue anymore. They were dull and greyish, lacking his usual spark. She squeezed his fingers tightly as she hopped out of the vinyl chair and moved to join him on the narrow bed. "Are you still hurting as much as earlier?" Oh, what a dumb question to ask, she chastised herself as the words rolled off her tongue.

"No, Love…" he assured her with a feeble attempt at a classic Killian Jones smirk. He didn't want her constantly worrying about him, but she wouldn't be easily convinced. "Still a few aches and pains, but it's not so bad…"

"You're a lousy liar, Killian Jones," was her response to his statement. "You're still way too warm and you're recovering from a very real stab wound while simultaneously having to fight the supernatural effects that the damned broken dagger left behind, so please, will you just be honest with me?"

"Not sure what you want me to say…" he said, not really knowing where to even begin. His skin may feel warm to her, but he in fact felt chilled clear to the bone. Half of the tremors in his limbs were caused by shivering, but the pain was still a very real factor as well. Whatever drugs were coursing through his veins merely dulled the constant discomfort. His entire torso ached with indescribable variations of agony – part searing, part throbbing and part crushing. How did he dare attempt to put this into words without horrifying the love of his life? "Yes, I'm in pain, Love, but it's no worse than anything I've experienced before and I've no intent to give in to it."

"Regina's potion will be here in just a few more hours," she reminded him. "If we can get the dark magic blocked, it should help you regain some of your strength and hopefully, get rid of the damned fever. Have you remained any movement in your legs yet?" She'd been assured by the doctors that he'd suffered no permanent damage from the broken dagger tip and that as the swelling decreased, he should recover normal movement but as she watched him squeeze his eyelids closed to concentrate, all she saw was complete and utter frustration etched into his features.

"It would appear not," he replied in a dejected voice and she immediately lowered her body against his, hugging him as tightly as she could without injuring him further.

"It will be alright," she assured him, resting her head on his shoulder even as she raised up a bit, feeling the pressure of the bag of rocks squished between their bodies. She intentionally turned her face away from his, not wanting to upset him with her now steadily flowing tears.

"I know, Swan," was all he said. She may have been shielding him from seeing her tears, but it didn't mean he couldn't feel the dampness soaking through the thin fabric of this awful dressing gown the hospital had put on him. "You're so tense, Love… Have you slept any?"

Seriously? Emma thought to herself as she tried to stop the waterworks, a tiny smile stretching across her dampened face. He was the one lying here feverish and in pain, and yet he was worried about her? "I got to sleep a little," she insisted. "It wasn't easy, but Grandmother can be very persuasive…"

"Good. 'Knew I liked that old woman…"

"Okay," she grinned, lifting her head so she could once again meet him eye to eye. "Don't you worry about me, Pirate. You just concentrate on getting yourself better…"

"That sounded like an order…" he teased.

"Did it need to be?" she laughed, thankful that he was in good enough spirits to taunt her with a joke. "Look, you just worry about getting some rest because I want to see you back on your feet and out of that bed…"

"Too tempting to not take advantage of me?" Killian asked with a devilish smirk, nearly convincing her that he was back to his normal, saucy swagger but it was too blatantly obvious that the amorous grin was merely a façade.

"Hardly," she chided with a small, unamused shake of her head. "Although you do cut quite the figure in that blue and white hospital gown… What exactly is that print? Paisley? No – are those little crescent moons?"

"Can't say I've been bothered to notice," was his reply, not even caring what design the ugly garment possessed. "What is the purpose of this bloody garment anyway? Scarcely covers anything and it's godawful scratchy…"

"I'm not even going to attempt to give a response to that because honestly, I don't really know. I'd say modesty, but since they tend to leave your backside hanging out, who the hell knows? I'm just glad to see your sense of humor returning. Makes me feel a little better…"

"Nothing to fear… I may be temporarily incapacitated, but that does not mean I've lost any of my charm or wit…"

"You're incorrigible," Emma chuckled. "That's what you are." He could joke all he wanted, but it was becoming evident that he was extremely tired. "Anyway, I know you're exhausted. I'm going to go find Grandmother. You just sleep…"

"So, was that an order?" he asked, eyelids already drooping.

"Yes, that was an order, Deputy. Love you." She wasn't certain he even heard her reply as his body had already gone slack with sleep. "Love you," she repeated, pressing a kiss into the back of his hand before replacing it at his side while she stood, eyes drawn to the clock on the wall next to the sink. It was now nearly 3pm. Just a few more hours to go and things should get better.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to preface this chapter with the revelation that it came together as the result of a very stressful couple of weeks for me. So, that said, this one is going to be heavy on the angst - with just a couple of major developments playing out both in Phoenix as well as back home in Storybrooke. I promise, there is going to be a happy ending, but there's still a bumpy road ahead for both Emma and Killian...

Evening was quickly descending on Storybrooke as Regina yanked open the heavy front door of the town library, here thanks to an urgent message from Belle stating she'd discovered something very important. Regina didn't see the brunette librarian anywhere as she entered but she could hear a couple of muffled voices off in the distance.

"Belle?" Regina called out, having recognized Belle's voice as well as a male one – David. "You've got news?"

"Regina!" Belle's voice shouted back from further back in the dusty, musty building. "We're back here – in the computer room."

"We?" Regina asked. She had only made out two voices so she wondered who else might be present.

"David and I," Belle replied as Regina came around the corner into the library's make-shift computer room which also housed most of the reference section. David, clad in a blue plaid flannel shirt and jeans, was leaning against the wall across from Belle. "I figured he should be here as acting Sheriff so he could hear this as well…"

"Must relate to Emma and Hook then," Regina said in what came across as a perpetually annoyed tone.

"Sort of…," was Belle's cryptic response as she took a couple of steps over to a huge, solid oak library table stacked with piles of leather-bound first editions and reference materials. Belle pushed one of the stacks to the side and produced a fistful of papers. "Actually, it has more to do with Yzma's partner, Kronk…"

"Kronk? The guy who stabbed Hook then followed my daughter and son-in-law through the portal to Arizona?" David queried.

"That Kronk," Belle confirmed, plucking the first page from her pile of papers, one that looked like a poor quality photocopy. "I've been doing some research into both of our recent troublemakers, both Yzma and Kronk."

"Okay…" Regina hadn't expected the the petite librarian to continue looking into the pair once they'd been identified, but maybe this was a good thing.

"Well, we know that they arrived here with Mr. Hyde and his cronies from the Land of Untold Stories," David stated, curious as to what else Belle might have uncovered.

"Yes, they did come from the Land of Untold Stories," Belle verified. "I confirmed that through some of the journals found with both Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde's belongings. Each seemed to be trying to keep records which partially identified the story book characters trapped in that realm. Thing was, neither of them made any mention of Nehemiah Kronk or what his story was. That got me very curious so I started to do a little digging and, with the help of some modern technology, I found something very interesting…"

"Are you going to kill us with suspense?" Regina deadpanned, eager to get home after a long day.

"Sorry, let me get to the point," Belle responded, voice dripping with sarcasm as she had no intention of being bullied by the mayor's insolence. "Nehemiah Kronk isn't a fairytale character at all…"

"What?!" both David and Regina chimed in unison.

"What do you mean he isn't a fairytale character?" Regina repeated Belle's revelation. "He has to be…"

"He's most certainly not," Belle replied very matter-of-factly as she passed the paper clutched in her hand to Regina. "Nehemiah Kronk is from this world, the Land Without Magic. Look…"

Regina perused the slightly blurry page before her which appeared to be a badly preserved copy of a very old newspaper article. "What exactly am I looking at? Old news?"

"That is a printout of an article I uncovered, published by the  _Arizona Republican_  newspaper in 1892…" Belle started to say as Regina handed the barely legible page to David.

"This says something about a missing US Marshal?" David asked as he glanced down at the page, confused as to what this had to do with Yzma's dangerous henchman. "I guess I'm missing something here…"

"Let me finish?" Belle asked, to which both David and Regina agreed, promising not to interrupt again. "That article talks about the mysterious disappearance of United States Marshal Nehemiah Kronk who vanished somewhere outside of the city Phoenix, then in the Arizona territories, while escorting a prisoner from Denver to Los Angeles. He and his partner turned their prisoner over to the California team, but when his partner checked in the next morning before they were to board the train back to Denver, Kronk was nowhere to be found. Witnesses reported he was last seen in a tavern talking to an old man. No one ever saw Kronk again and he was suspected of becoming a victim of one of several Apache attacks that week."

"Okay, but this is from the 1890s… How could someone from this world still be alive and unaged over a century later?" David wondered. "I'm sure the frozen time aspect of the Land of Untold Stories had something to do with it, but how did he get there if he isn't from a story? And how did he manage to hook up with Yzma?"

"I can't give you answers to those questions, but it's definitely the same guy…" Belle peeled the second page from her pile which contained a grainy, black and white photograph of the missing Marshal and while the hairstyle, attire and facial hair were different, David recognized the face of the man he'd fought alongside his son-in-law.

"Damn… that's him…" David sighed, unsure what this would mean for his daughter and her wounded husband.

"Well, at least we now have something that explains how they ended up in Arizona," Regina spoke up. "If Emma's right about the dagger being the object that opened the portal, not the scepter, Kronk may have had an impact on their destination."

"You think Kronk had a reason to go back to Arizona after all of these years?" David asked.

"Maybe. There are a lot of things we aren't going to be able to answer, but maybe this information would help Emma's friends track him down before he finds them?" Belle questioned. "Maybe we should call her?"

"She's still waiting for the dagger and potion to arrive," Regina said as she glanced down at her gold, diamond encrusted watch. "It won't get there for a few more hours but she's supposed to call when the package arrives and let us know if the potion works."

"Emma's got enough on her mind right now," David began. "Let's wait until we know the potion worked before we give her something else to worry about…"

"Agreed," Regina said. "Let's not bother her with a story about a century and a half year old former Federal Agent until the dark magic is dealt with. As for me, I'm heading home. If you happen to hear from your daughter sooner, let me know."

* * *

Sunsets in the Valley of the Sun were always spectacular and Carlos found his eyes immediately drawn to the blaze of color stretching across the Western sky as he exited his battered old pickup truck. The last few rays of sunlight could be seen reflecting off of the front windows of the nondescript office building in Scottsdale that he'd parked in front of, one which housed the National Parks Service field office. At nearly 6pm, only a few of his fellow government employees would still be here, most swapping their assigned Parks Service SUVs for their personal vehicles after a long day of patrolling the surrounding expanse of Federal lands.

He tapped his ID badge against the electronic security panel to the right of the entrance, tugging the door open when the panel buzzed and flashed a green light. Ana, their receptionist, glanced up from her desk as he entered, momentarily startling her as few people entered through the front door at this hour.

"Littlecreek? What are you doing at the office at this hour?" she asked, her dark eyes narrowing in confusion. "And isn't it your day off?"

"Hey, Ana," he greeted her with a friendly smile, hoping he could sell her on the basic story without going into a lot of detail. "Yeah, sorry for the confusion. I've got a package being delivered here from back East. It's pretty important so I didn't really want to risk having it dropped off at my place."

"Ooh, the mystery deepens, huh?" Ana teased him as he pulled one of the waiting area chairs away from the window and flopped down onto it. "Must be pretty important for you to show up here on your day off…"

"Yes, it is. Important enough to warrant private, same-day courier delivery. Good thing it's not on my tab. Figured I'd get over here early though in case the plane lands earlier than scheduled."

"Okay, well, you're on your own. I'm not sticking around while you wait," Ana stated as the clock on her desk now read six o'clock. "My day is over and I'm heading home. See you later, Littlecreek."

"Goodnight, Ana," he replied as she retrieved her purse from beneath her desk and scurried out the door. While he would have preferred the company, the less prying eyes, the better. He didn't want to have to go over the story of the package's contents more times than necessary.

He'd nearly drifted off from boredom when a loud knock sounded against the thick glass door forty-five minutes later. Carlos sprang to his feet and took a step towards the door, taking in the sight of a slight, blond haired man in his early to mid twenties dressed in a navy blue uniform and clutching a small box wrapped tightly in clear tape.

"Evening," the courier greeted Carlos from the opposite side of the thick glass door. "I've got a package here for a Mrs. Emma Jones, care of a Ranger Carlos Littlecreek?"

"And that would be me," Carlos replied. "One moment. Let me buzz you in…" Carlos found the button to his left and pressed it before pushing the door open for the courier to enter the office lobby.

"Thank you," the courier said as he took a few steps inside toward the reception desk. He rested the package on the desk while fumbling through his pocket with his free hand to find his tablet so he could collect Carlos' signature confirming the delivery. It was only as the package was placed atop the counter that Carlos noticed that one side was dented significantly. "I just need you to sign here but I'd also like you to take a look over the package and the contents and make sure they're intact in case you need to file a claim. We had a pretty bumpy flight and everything in the cargo hold got jostled around a lot. 'Found this package beneath a heavier one that got bounced on top of it and since the manifest stated it contained medicine, I was a little concerned…"

"Yeah, it contains some cough medicine for a colleague of mine. Desert air doesn't quite agree with her," Carlos chuckled as he hunted around Ana's desk for a pair of scissors so he could cut through the many layers of tape securing the box. Upon closer inspection, it appeared the courier had valid reason for his concern. He could see that beneath the tape, corners of the cardboard seemed to be damp with a reddish liquid and as he lifted it, the bottom was sticky against his palm. It was all adding up to be a little disconcerting. What if the potion bottles were damaged? There might not be time to wait for another batch… He cautiously cut through the tape securing the top flaps of the box and pulled them open to reveal layer after layer of bubble wrap lining the carton. He dug into it, easily finding the first prescription bottle and breathing a small sigh of relief upon discovering it was intact. They'd have one dose at least.

Unfortunately, as he discovered more of the sticky liquid clinging to the plastic, it became fairly evident that the second container hadn't been spared and as much as he hated it, he was right. He found the second bottle positioned against the dented side of the box sporting a large crack down the side. Grabbing what looked to be a clean coffee mug from Ana's desktop, he carefully extracted the second bottle, trying to preserve as much of the precious liquid inside as he could. He dropped the damaged container into the mug so it could catch any additional spillage, then slowly removed layer upon layer of bubble wrap, pouring what he could salvage into the mug.

"Damn…," the courier sighed. "I'm so sorry about that. We'll notify the sender so they can put in a damage claim if they want."

"Nothing you could do about the turbulence," Carlos assured the courier, not blaming him for this setback. At least one bottle had survived so they had one full dose and he was doing all he could to collect every drop he could rescue from the broken bottle. "Here, let me sign that so you can get out of here and I can get this stuff over to my colleague." The courier handed him the tablet and a rubber tipped stylus to sign and Carlos scrawled out his name as best he could with his now very sticky fingers. Once the transaction was all completed, he buzzed the courier out and tried to decide if he should call Emma now to warn her or just explain it all in person. Neither option was particularly pleasant at the moment.

* * *

Deciding it preferable to explain face to face, Carlos packaged the borrowed mug inside the box with the unblemished container and the still wrapped dagger then hurried out to his truck. He headed south toward Mesa, driving as quickly as he could without drawing too much unnecessary attention. Last thing he needed was to get pulled over for speeding and lengthen the delay the snarled traffic was already causing.

He finally arrived back at the hospital just after 7:30pm, box carefully tucked under his left arm. The unusual package had gotten a bit of scrutiny from security, but a casual mention of Tim Stillwater's name managed to get him through without too many questions. As he at last approached the room, it looked like Killian was asleep. Emma's back was to him but Grandmother spotted him lurking in the corridor and waved him inside.

"Why were you standing out there just staring?" Grandmother scolded him. "You could have just entered."

"I saw that Killian was sleeping and I didn't want to disturb him," Carlos replied in defense of his stalling.

"Right now, I don't care who you wake," Emma stated, standing up and hurriedly retrieving the box Carlos was carrying. "This package right here is the only thing I'm worried about right now."

"Well, the potion is definitely in there, as was the dagger," Carlos told her. "I wasn't even gonna try to bring that thing in here though so it's locked in my truck, but unfortunately, we may have a small problem…"

"Problem?" Emma's gaze shot up to meet Carlos', the earlier eagerness now tempered with a hint of trepidation. "What kind of problem?" She had already placed the cardboard box atop the rolling side table and was lifting the flaps to open it, not yet noticing that the corners were damp and discolored, but Grandmother's eagle eyes had spotted the stains.

Sharing a knowing glance with her grandson, the old woman was already asking "What happened?" even before Emma had the lid open, knowing not all of the potion had survived the journey from Storybrooke. Grandmother's intuitive suspicions were confirmed when Emma peeled back the sticky bubble wrap to discover the ceramic mug holding the cracked prescription bottle and the remnants that Carlos had managed to salvage.

"One of the bottles was broken?" Emma asked with a very audible sigh, lifting the mug carefully from the box so she wouldn't spill any more of its valuable contents. "It's all soaked through the box…"

"The courier said they hit some nasty turbulence and some other boxes fell on top of this one," Carlos explained. "I salvaged what I could from the broken one, even what I could manage to save from inside the layers of bubble wrap. 'Borrowed a friend's mug so I'd have something to catch it all. Looks like there's maybe a third of the original amount left…"

"The other bottle is intact?" Grandmother asked just wanting to be certain.

"Yes, it's fine," Emma responded as she withdrew the undamaged bottle from the package and placed it atop the table. Resting the mug beside the prescription container, she extracted the broken bottle and removed its lid, dumping the remaining contents into the mug. The thick, reddish-brown liquid certainly looked and even smelled like cough syrup. Regina had done well disguising it, but they had only a little more than a single dose. "Might as well have him drink all of it now," Emma decided, raising the second bottle to remove its cap and emptying it into the mug as well. Now all she had to do was get Killian to drink it.

"You're not worried it might be too much?" Carlos wondered, figuring there had to be a reason it was split into two separate doses. He didn't really expect Emma to answer as there definitely wasn't enough left to make a second dose that would likely have any effect, but he was still curious that too much could be equally as troubling as not enough.

"I don't see much of a choice," Emma replied as she gently nudged her husband's shoulder in an attempt to get him to stir. "Killian? If you can hear me, you need to wake up…" There was little response from her first effort so she had to try a bit harder this time, stroking his upper arm as she called out to him once again. "Killian – we've got the potion… You need to wake up so you can drink it…" This time, his head lolled toward the sound of her voice, followed by a faint, pained groan of displeasure. "That's it…" Emma continued to encourage him out of his drowsiness. "C'mon, talk to me…"

"'M tired, Swan…" Killian complained, eyes still closed tightly.

"I know," she apologized. Emma hated forcing him, but deep down, she knew it was for the best. "You've got to wake up and drink this to fight off that dark magic that has a hold on you." Killian's eyelids parted to slits, barely enough to make out the shape of his wife's face as she leaned over him. He took another moment to allow his sleepy eyes to adjust until he could discern a mug clutched in her right hand.

"Regina's potion?" Killian asked, his left eyebrow arching with suspicion.

"Yes," Emma smiled at him. "It's the potion we've been waiting for." She gently took a seat beside him on the narrow bed. "Let me help you sit up…" She found the controls for the adjustable bed and pressed the button to raise his head, slipping her left hand behind his shoulder to help ease him forward until he was seated upright, nearly eye level with her. He immediately grimaced and nearly tumbled back against the pillows as a twinge of pain shot through his chest. "Ooh, sorry… Shouldn't have done that so fast…"

"Be fine in a moment…," Killian insisted, gritting his teeth until the discomfort lessened. "Where is it?"

"Here," Emma replied, offering the ceramic mug. He managed to wrap his fingers around it, but found his hand shaking too much to keep a grip on the handle. "Maybe I should hold it?" his wife offered, to which he nodded in agreement. "Okay… take it slowly, but you'll have to drink it all." She raised the mug to his lips and gradually tipped it. When he nearly gagged on the first mouthful, she instinctively pulled the offending vessel away, fearful that it might be too much right now, but Killian shook his head and reached for her.

"It's fine, Love," Killian assured her despite a crinkled nose and a frown stretching across his lips. "It's a bit much. Rather distasteful, to be honest, but I can do this…" The frown melted into a weak smile as he cupped his hand around hers, still trembling from even such a slight exertion. His fingers stayed with hers as she brought the mug back to his open mouth again. Killian wasn't shy about displaying his displeasure at the foul-tasting liquid but he drank all of it. Emma lowered the mug and passed it to Grandmother as Killian forced himself to swallow the last of the potion.

"Feel any different?" Emma asked, remaining at her husband's side while Grandmother placed the mug on the counter next to the sink to wash later.

"Burns a little," Killian responded, his fingers latching onto Emma's upper arm for support. "Kinda like heartburn after eating that noxious substance Granny calls chili…" That statement had Emma trying to stifle a chuckle even as she felt his grip tighten.

"You sure you're okay?" Emma asked, no longer amused. "You've got a death grip on my arm."

"Sorry… Don't know my own strength…" Killian grinned, but the forced smile was soon betrayed by a powerful spasm that sent his body tumbling into his wife's arms.

"Killian?!" Her arms immediately wrapped around his torso as she caught him crashing into her, nearly knocking her over. His heart was thumping against his chest wall; his breaths coming rapid and shallow and suddenly, the electronic monitor behind him was beeping in time with his racing heart. This was definitely going to draw attention they didn't need.

Sensing what was happening, Grandmother shooed Carlos away from the door as Emma clung to her trembling husband. These spirits weren't going to give him up without a fight, but the old woman recognized that an interruption by medical personnel at this critical moment would disrupt the process so she moved swiftly to intercept the nurse before she entered.

"Is everything alright here?" the nurse asked suspiciously as she saw her patient clenched in his wife's embrace, apparently wrought with tremors. The first thought as the monitors had lit up with alarms was that Killian Jones was suffering another seizure. "This might be another seizure so if you'd please, move out of my way so I can examine my patient."

"Everything is fine," Grandmother insisted, voice calm and steady so that she might sound more convincing. "It's not a seizure. Mr. Jones merely woke from a very visceral nightmare – the poor man forced to relive the horror of being stabbed by an assailant that has yet to be captured. His wife is attempting to comfort him. She gave him a little bit of water and is holding him while the shaking subsides. Please, give her some time before you interrupt them. You might startle him anew." The nurse relented, partially because she noticed that the monitor displaying the patient's heart rate showed his pulse returning to normal and partially because she didn't want to argue with this old woman standing before her.

"I'll be back in two minutes to check his vitals," the nurse insisted. Grandmother responded only with a nod, returning to the room to find that Killian had passed out, his body slack in Emma's arms as she eased him back against the mattress, lowering the bed's angle to a more comfortable sleeping position.

Once Killian was resting seemingly peacefully, Emma drew her arms back from beneath him, but then raised her right hand to sweep away the unruly strands of dark brown hair that had cascaded over his temple when he'd fallen forward. His forehead still felt a bit warm to her touch, but perhaps not as much as earlier? "Please let this work." Her plea came out in a barely audible whisper.

"I don't sense the evil spirits here in this room any longer," Grandmother stated as she extended a hand to help Emma to her feet. Emma's gaze remained fixed on Killian as she stood, allowing him to rest without crowding him.

"I sure hope you're right," Emma responded, her voice quivering as she allowed only a single tear to escape. "I guess only a little time will tell us for sure…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I left this on a bit of a cliffhanger after all of that angst and drama and it's definitely not over yet. There's still a showdown with Kronk yet to come and a trek to locate the mystical spot in the Superstition Mountains where Emma might be able to find enough magic to open a portal home. I've got some big changes coming in my real world, but I will try to get the updates our as quickly as I can.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will probably be the closest to fluff we'll see for a while as Emma learns the new information about the mysterious Nehemiah Kronk as they will inevitably cross paths again.

Hours after drinking the potion, Killian lingered in a deep sleep and while Emma momentarily entertained a thought that Regina might have sent them the wrong concoction, she gradually began to see evidence that it was working. The machines and monitors surrounding him were also confirming the same results. His blood pressure had already returned to normal and the fever which had plagued him for far too long had nearly broken. His temperature had dropped to below 101 degrees for the first time in more than a day, on pace to be back to normal in a few more hours. The unfortunate part of it was that everything had taken such a toll on him physically that Emma had no idea when he might awaken.

So, here she was once again, sitting and waiting by his side. Visiting hours had ended at 8:30pm so Grandmother and Carlos had bid her goodnight, promising to return tomorrow. Emma left the dagger in their possession for the evening as undoubtedly, there wouldn't be an easy way to smuggle it into the hospital. Of course, there wasn't much she could do with it here anyway. It was now a little after 9pm and Emma knew she still needed to provide an update to their family and friends back home. She truthfully should have called sooner, but she wasn't quite sure what to say. How was she going to break the news about the cracked vial? How should she answer questions about Killian's condition? While he seemed to be getting better, they were still only dealing with a temporary fix until they got home.

She sent her father a quick text message first to be sure he was still awake even though her gut told her that everyone back home was likely wide awake awaiting her call. David responded almost immediately, giving credence to her belief. He was probably sitting at the kitchen table with his phone either in his hand or laying right next to him all night. The imagery of it led to a little half-smile creeping across a corner of her mouth as she dragged the vinyl armchair closer to the window so she would get a better signal, no longer caring that she wasn't supposed to be using her phone in the room. It certainly wasn't going to bother Killian.

It also definitely did not surprise her when David answered on the first ring. "Emma! Thank goodness. We've been waiting all night to hear from you."

"Sorry to make you wait," Emma responded. "I just needed to wind down a little before I called. It's been an eventful night…"

"Did the package make it?" David asked and Emma picked up the slight waver in his voice, concern evident in his tone.

"Yes, yes," Emma assured him, not ready to burst any optimistic bubble just yet. "Ranger Littlecreek brought it over a few hours ago and I had him hang onto the dagger."

"Okay, that's great," David replied nervously and somewhat impatiently. "So, did the potion work?"

"I can't completely answer that question yet because Killian passed out almost immediately after drinking it, but his blood pressure and fever both dropped so I guess it seems to be working."

"That's good to hear. We all hoped it would work so I'll let everyone know." The relief in her father's voice echoed hollow in her ear. She wanted so much to just leave things there, but she couldn't. He needed to know the truth.

"It didn't arrive in one piece though," Emma lamented with a deep sigh. "We didn't get all of the potion…"

"Wait…What?" David stammered. "What happened?"

"I guess the flight into Phoenix was a rough one and apparently something fell on top of the box. One of the bottles was cracked and we lost about two-thirds of the liquid in that one. We salvaged all we could and just had Killian drink all of it."

"Oh, Emma… I'm so sorry... Guess we should have wrapped it better…"

"Dad, its okay… It just means that we're going to have to figure out a way home a lot sooner. Ranger Littlecreek is going to check something out tomorrow and we'll all regroup in the morning. We have to figure out a place where we can tap into enough magic to open that portal. Carlos thinks he knows a spot that might actually be indicated by the dagger itself and it isn't far from the place Killian and I crashed into when we dropped out of the portal. Just have to figure out how we'll get Killian out there…"

"I'm sure you'll find a way, honey," David insisted. "This family always finds a way."

"I thought the family motto was that we always find each other?" Emma responded with a tiny giggle sneaking out to break the tension.

"Alright, but we do always find a way to solve our problems too," David retorted.

"Okay, Dad, I'll let you know more tomorrow after we've had a chance to talk this all over."

"Sounds good," David began, "but before I let you go, I have some news I need to share. Regina thought I should wait until we knew if Hook was going to be alright, but I think you need to know now. Belle uncovered something about Kronk that's really strange…"

"Something strange about Kronk?" Emma repeated. "Other than that we know he's lurking out there somewhere but so far, hasn't found us?"

"Well, tread carefully if you do run across him again. Nehemiah Kronk is a weird anomaly in all of this because he isn't a fairytale character. He's actually from this realm – the Land Without Magic."

"How the hell is that possible?"

"I've no idea, but he's apparently a former US Marshal who vanished outside Phoenix in the 1890s…"

"Wait - did you just say  _1890_?" Emma was stunned, unsure if she'd heard her father correctly.

"I did," David sighed, realizing how crazy this sounded and now a bit guilty that he'd broached the subject at this hour. "Somehow, he ended up in the Land of Untold Stories and got tied up with Yzma somehow. We haven't completely figured out that part and she's not exactly being forthcoming with us."

"So he really was a Marshal? At least that explains why he was posing as one here," Emma thought aloud as one little piece of the mystery clicked into place. "I don't understand though how someone from the Land Without Magic ended up in the Land of Untold Stories… I thought it was just a refuge, or maybe a prison, for story book characters trying to keep their stories from playing out?"

"That's how it was explained to us so honestly, I'm just as baffled as you."

"No kidding, but hang on, could we back up for a moment? You also said something about Kronk disappearing from Phoenix?" Now Emma's mind was racing. If Kronk vanished from here in Phoenix over one hundred years ago, maybe that had something to do with how they ended up on the side of a mountain a few days ago. "He opened the portal with the dagger so do you think he was the one who sent us all to Arizona?"

"We asked ourselves that question too," David explained, "and yeah, we thought it was a likely possibility too, although we couldn't quite figure out why he'd be trying to go back after over a century."

"Unless maybe he thought the portal might bend time or something?" Emma theorized. "Remember when I first called you after we broke into the Ranger outpost station? You said it had been hours since Killian and I went through the portal, but for us, it had only been a little over an hour – definitely no more than two. It was almost like the portal dropped us at the exact same time here in Arizona that it had been when we left Storybrooke… Do you think maybe he's trying to find a way back to his time?"

"I don't know. I can't imagine it even being possible to travel that far back, but there has to be some reason he wanted to get back to Arizona."

"So why then?" Emma asked rhetorically as she caught sight of the rustling of bed linens, her eyes immediately drawn to the center of the room where she noticed that Killian had pushed away the blanket she'd draped over him earlier. Excited to see her husband finally stirring, she had to cut the conversation with her father short. "Dad, we'll have to talk more tomorrow. I think Killian is starting to wake so I need to go be with him…"

"Of course. I'll fill in the family and we'll talk later," David promised as he disconnected

* * *

Sounds were the first things that struck him as he woke. Something behind his head was beeping and there was a faint clicking noise echoing from somewhere else in the no-so-quiet room. He recognized Emma's muffled voice off in the distance somewhere as well. Not yet daring to open his eyes, he struggled in attempt to sit up, wincing at the instant, disconcerting assault to every nerve ending in his body.  _Right – stab wound_ , he was forced to remind himself. His body was still healing from being run through with that bloody dagger he'd failed to spot in time. Sinking back against the mattress, he lifted his eyelids slowly, allowing his vision to adjust to the hospital room's too bright lighting as he pushed away the blanket covering his upper torso. It dawned on him as his hand pulled away from the fabric that the blanket felt different than earlier. Had someone actually changed the linens while he was asleep? A brief glance downward at the ridiculous gown he was attired in confirmed that it had been swapped, this one now a solid pale blue instead of the patterned one he recalled from earlier. Exactly how long had he been asleep?

He craned his neck looking for his wife, spotting her sitting next to the room's single, floor to ceiling window. He didn't see or hear anyone else in the room so she must have been conversing with someone on her phone. Emma was looking his way, but not being certain she'd noticed him moving, he wanted her to know he was awake so he did his best to croak out a weak "Swan?"

Killian hadn't realized that she was already well aware of his movement and ended her call, but he did see her pocketing her phone before dragging the vinyl chair back to his bedside. Her long, golden tresses were pulled back into a messy ponytail, save for a few errant strands that framed her face. She looked nearly as haggard as he felt but he didn't care. His Emma would always be a vision of beauty for his bleary eyes.

"Killian," she smiled as she took her seat at his side, the dark circles beneath her eyes even more pronounced as she reached through the bed railing to grasp his hand in hers. "I was beginning to worry that Regina accidentally slipped us a sleeping potion."

"Fighting off dark magic is a very tiring process," he muttered, trying unsuccessfully to shift his position on the mattress to something more comfortable, his efforts futile with his lingering inability to move his lower limbs. Emma picked up on what he was attempting which provided one of her answers before she could even ask the question.

"Here – let me help…" she offered, locating the device looped around the safety rail that controlled the bed and television. "You can raise or lower the bed with this…" she explained, placing the controller into his hand. "Were you wanting to sit up or lay down more?"

"Up," he stated as she pointed out the button that would raise the head of the bed while explaining that he could adjust the angle of his legs with the other. He was content to simply raise his head and shoulders to see his wife's face better but decided he might fidget with the other buttons later. "Thank you. I've slept on rock slabs in Neverland that were more comfortable, although it would seem that I slept rather soundly as I've no recollection of someone changing my bed linens or attire."

"Kinda had to," Emma chuckled. "The other ones were completely soaked with sweat. Couldn't have you sleeping in a puddle after your fever broke."

"Do I dare ask how the task was completed with me still laying in this bed?"

"Not sure you really want to know," she giggled, elated to see him in such good spirits, so to speak. "I'm just glad to know that the potion is working even though I wished we knew exactly how much time this bought us to find a way home. At least we now have a better idea of what the dark magic was affecting versus the actual, physical damage caused by the damned dagger." She hesitated before continuing. "I know you're still struggling with not being able to move your legs…"

"Minor inconvenience, Love," he fibbed, not wanting her to dwell on his current, unfortunate circumstance. "What progress have you made toward getting us back to Storybrooke?"

"You're a lousy liar, but to answer your question, we've come up with some good ideas. We're fairly certain we know how the portal was opened and who opened it. Now it's just a matter of figuring out where we can open one up out here – some place where there's enough magic for me to access."

"Some place near where we exited the portal?" Killian theorized which actually surprised Emma since he hadn't really been privy to the discussions regarding the dagger, the symbolism on it or how it tied into their present location. Now she was wondering exactly how much of their conversations he'd heard while in and out of consciousness.

"Possibly. Carlos recognized a symbol from the dagger that he says matches a petroglyph he's seen out on a trail in the mountains and to be honest, the symbol does look a lot like a portal. And there's other evidence pointing in that direction too. Carlos is going to head out there at first light tomorrow morning so he can get a fresh look at the symbol. If it's really the same, we'll find a way to get out to the location and figure out a way to open our own portal."

"We?" Killian asked quizzically, well aware of the fact that he wasn't physically capable of such a trek right now.

"Yes, we," Emma insisted. "We will find a way because there's no way I'm leaving here without you."

"Emma, I doubt that the potion I drank will have any impact on my physical injury. Assuming I do regain the ability to move my legs by morning, do you really believe I'll have the strength to hike up a mountain?"

"Killian, I promise you, we will figure it out somehow? Grandmother and Carlos have both offered their help too. It might not be easy, but we are going to get back to Storybrooke together. Do you understand me?"

"Aye, Love," he replied with a nod. "I'm certain you'll accomplish whatever you put your mind to…"

"Good," she stated while squeezing his hand tightly, "because we've got another mystery to solve as well…"

"Which is?" he queried, curious as to where the conversation was heading next.

"Nehemiah Kronk."

"The bastard who stabbed me?"

"Him. If the information that my dad told me a few minutes ago is correct, Kronk isn't a fairytale character at all."

"So, who do we suppose he is then?"

"Someone from this realm - from the Land Without Magic - who somehow managed to wind up in the Land of Untold Stories with Hyde and Yzma… And somehow, crossed into that realm a hundred or so years ago…"

"I may still be a tad delirious from fever, Love, but I would swear that I just heard you say Kronk traveled to that strange land a  _hundred_  years ago?"

"Oh, you're not delirious. Based on what Belle uncovered, Kronk vanished from somewhere outside of Phoenix – probably not far from here – back in the 1890s." She didn't relay all of what David had told her, but it was enough to leave her husband scratching his head in confusion.

"Bloody hell…"

"My sentiment exactly. Something isn't adding up here but everything points back to Kronk and that dagger. We just have to figure out what we're missing.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After spending the past few weeks dealing with the insanity of a new computer system, new co-workers and ever changing schedules at work, I finally managed to find some downtime to do a little writing. In fact, I've finished most of the first draft of this story which has me both happy to be nearing completion as well as a little sad for the very same reason, but there are still several chapters to go and lots more adventure and angst to come!

With time not on their side, Carlos Littlecreek dragged his exhausted body out of bed before dawn, dressed in casual clothing in preparation for his hike, then made the short commute to Scottsdale to swap his old Suburban for one of the National Parks Service SUVs which he would need to venture unhindered onto the non-public roads and trails. Officially, it was still his day off but he was taking advantage of a provision that allowed him to utilize the government vehicles for official business and as far as Carlos was concerned, aiding the couple he'd rescued fell into that category. He'd come up with a cover story should anyone ask – maybe that he was going to look for an item they'd dropped on the trail, but at this hour, no one was likely to question him. And if he stuck to the service roads, he doubted he'd encounter anyone questioning why he was up on the mountain either.

The trail he had set out for, the former open hiking trail that had once been branded  _Petroglyph_   _Trail_ , was an hour's drive east of the office and Carlos made it to the last drivable dirt road just as the rising sun was peeking between the two nearest summits. At nearly 4000 feet above sea level, the air was thinner up here and the early morning haze was still clinging to the mountainside. Carlos had driven this road enough times to have memorized the terrain even if he couldn't clearly see the chaparral and scrub brush that surrounded him. He remembered there were a few scattered mesquite bushes but a good portion of the older and taller vegetation had succumbed to a wildfire which blazed through this area a few summers ago. Much of the surrounding area still bore the scars from that inferno, but this peak and the cavern he sought remained unblemished.

Reaching the end of the passable road, or at least the rutted gravel and packed earth they called a road, Carlos knew he'd be traversing the rest of the path on foot. He had about a mile and a half of partially marked rocky pathways ahead of him, but he knew it well. Even as a boy, he'd been drawn to this particular trail, returning time and again, even long after it was closed off to the public. He'd spent countless hours staring at the ancient carvings on the narrow cavern walls, his mind trying so hard to interpret these messages his ancestors had recorded. They'd left these symbols for someone to see, clearly trying to communicate even if the meaning had been lost to time.

But now Carlos was going to look at them with a renewed excitement. Now, there might be a new interpretation and it was as fantastic as it was fantastical. A tiny, nondescript cave out here in the middle of the Arizona desert, high on a remote mountainside of the Lost Dutchman State Park might hold a gateway to another world? This was the stuff of science fiction and ancient legend and Carlos was running on pure adrenaline as he realized he had been drawn right into the middle of it all.

And this Navajo boy couldn't have been more fascinated by it all.

Carlos had tucked the still bubble-wrapped dagger into his canvas backpack alongside his rescue gear, emergency provisions and canteen and once he'd passed the halfway point of his hike, he paused for a brief rest. He used his break to retrieve the dagger, carefully unwrapping just the handle so he could examine the intricate carvings that covered the metal and bone. It had been an incredible sight to view in the photographs Emma had shared and now, seeing it with his own eyes, the Ranger was awestruck. The detail was breathtaking, wrought with the craftsmanship of a true artisan, and yet while the carvings and symbols were amazing, Carlos had to remember that this was first and foremost a weapon. A weapon likely forged for blood sacrifices, he thought as he drew his focus back to the swirling symbol carved just below the hilt, one that he was betting would have a match in a petroglyph carved into the ancient volcanic rock out here in the middle of nowhere.

He didn't dally long, stowing the blade into the pack before continuing his trek. The trail began to wind around a rock face, gradually steepening as it approached the summit. From experience, he knew the cavern was really just a cleft in this same rock face, only a few hundred more yards ahead. He fumbled through his pack to locate his flashlight knowing that these feeble rays of early morning sunlight wouldn't be near enough to illuminate the shallow cavern.

The mouth of the cave was exactly where he remembered it, partially shaded by a lonely, squat and mostly bare acacia tree and a solitary saguaro standing sentry just to the left of the entrance. Switching on the flashlight, Carlos stepped into the cavern, first sweeping the area for any of the desert fauna that might be in his path before venturing further. Once confident that he was alone (save for a few insects), he swept the beam of light over the wall to his right, scanning the carvings left there by his ancestors hundreds of years ago. If memory served him correctly, the specific glyph he was seeking was halfway up the wall, five or six feet from the cave's entrance and it took him only a few short seconds to locate it.

The slightly eroded glyph still did remind him of a whirlpool at first glance, but there was no doubt left in his mind that it was a prefect match to the swirl carved into the dagger's handle and now, it was his mind swirling with a multitude of thoughts. He was now certain that the carving on the wall before him and the one on the blade tucked into his pack were connected, but how? Local lore attributed these petroglyphs to the Anasazi people, one of the earliest known settlements in these mountains but how did that tie into a centuries old dagger of questionable origin?

There were so many more questions to answer – so many Carlos couldn't wait to see answered, but at least he'd succeeded in confirming that this isolated spot, off a long-forgotten hiking trail in the desolate reaches of the land set aside to make up Lost Dutchman State Park was likely the supernatural epicenter that Emma sought. His head was practically spinning, dizzy with too many thoughts about the implications this raised. Now, he had to get Emma up here before her window of opportunity closed.

And he would have to convince her that should a magical portal be opened before his eyes, he was definitely going to accompany the Joneses through it because there was no way he'd miss out on that experience!

* * *

This was almost too easy, Nehemiah Kronk thought to himself as he sat behind the steering wheel of the  _borrowed_  white delivery van. After his failed prior attempt to obtain information from an area hospital by posing as a present-day Federal Marshal, he had spent the entire previous day simply observing, trying to determine which persons were able to gain access into the building easiest, with the fewest questions from security guards. After a few hours of study, the answer became almost painfully obvious – florists. He'd watched as many of them pulled up in their delivery vans and headed inside, sometimes with single vase bouquets or at times with large boxes containing multiple deliveries. On most occasions, the guards merely scrutinized the delivery order and did a quick inspection of the item, but rarely did they ask a lot of questions of the person in the company uniform.

So, he'd set out later in the day to locate the right florist, one hopefully with deliveries to the local hospitals and to commandeer one of their delivery vehicles long enough to get inside. Once past the guards and on to the elevators, he'd have access to nearly the entire campus where locating a one-handed stabbing victim shouldn't prove too difficult. Asking the right general questions, even to random strangers, usually yielded valuable information, even when they didn't know they were revealing anything at all.

He had done enough additional research to narrow down his target facilities to two which fit his refined criteria – close enough to the mountains for a trauma patient who was likely rapidly bleeding out to reach quickly and a facility large enough to keep questions regarding the circumstances of said trauma to a minimum. The two locations he'd narrowed his focus to were Mesa General, the very location he was parked beside, and University Medical Center.

Finding the right florist had proven slightly more challenging aa he lacked the necessary skills to hack into their modern, computerized systems so he searched for locations that still processed their orders manually. He'd cased several potential locations by pretending to be a customer, narrowing his choices to two promising businesses just blocks away from Mesa General where he planned to start since it was closest in physical distance to the mountains where they'd dropped out of the portal.

Arriving that morning before dawn, Kronk had found the first shop, Donna's Desert Floral and Gifts, already humming with activity. Two women were busy piecing together baskets and bouquets of blooms, greens, toys and even balloons, passing each completed item off to a middle aged gentleman who proceeded to load the displays into transport boxes and then into their van. Kronk already knew that at least one of these orders was bound for Mesa General as he'd been in the shop to overhear the conversation while placing his own fake order. He now had that patient's name and room number from the delivery order but he was going to need a few more things from these proprietors to make his plan successful.

First, he needed their delivery van which, taking his intimidating physique into consideration, wasn't difficult to obtain. In fact, none of the shop's employees put up much of a fight as Kronk made them assemble the order bound for Mesa General and load the glass vase containing the bouquet personally into the vehicle before confiscating all of their phones. He locked the three of employees into a storage room with a promise that he would return to free them as soon as his business was completed. Now, he simply needed to look the part as he rummaged through the shop in search of accessories that would aid in passing himself off as a convincing delivery driver. He located an adjustable baseball-style cap emblazoned with the company's name and logo and also found an oversized kelly green apron which he donned over top of his basic black short sleeved polo shirt and black slacks. Just before leaving, he snatched the clipboard from the wall that detailed all of today's orders, removing all but the ones heading to Mesa General Hospital.

And here he was, parked in the side street loading zone just around the corner from the entrance preparing to put his latest plan into action. He expected to be asked for identification and had managed to scrounge up a decent fake on short notice – a phony out of state driver's license identifying him as George Sanchez that would draw less scrutiny than a fabricated Arizona license. He made certain to memorize details of his false identity should he be questioned.

All he had to do was get inside. Someone here must have recalled seeing the blonde haired Sheriff or heard someone speaking of an injured man missing a left hand. He was going to find them and then he'd reclaim what was his.

* * *

Emma ducked out of Killian's room a little after 8AM feeling surprisingly rested after her first semi-decent night's sleep since they'd been unexpectedly dropped into Arizona. With less worry about her husband, she'd managed to get a little over six hours of rest, even if not all of it was consecutive. Sleeping in a chair just didn't get any more comfortable even when her anxieties were eased. She was glad that Killian was still sleeping peacefully, aided partially by the painkillers coursing through his veins - the painkillers that he'd initially been opposed to until Emma finally convinced him that she wouldn't think any less of him if he didn't want to suffer and reminded him that he needed his rest. She didn't want to see him battling any more discomfort than he'd already experienced and knew he'd definitely need the time to rebuild his strength before the potion's effects wore off.

Since Grandmother and Carlos wouldn't be returning until after 10AM when visiting hours resumed, Killian had plenty of time to sleep before he'd have company again and Emma happily took advantage of her husband's slumber to make a much needed visit to the cafeteria. Grabbing a bear claw pastry and the largest size cup of coffee they offered, Emma made her way out to the peaceful sanctuary of the courtyard garden. Out here, exposed to the elements, it didn't take long for her to realize that the air was cooler than it had been on her prior visits, making her wish she'd brought her leather jacket. At least it wasn't so chilly that she couldn't suffer for a few minutes to get a welcome respite from the constant noises and lingering odor of disinfectant inside the hospital.

She contemplated calling her parents who were undoubtedly waiting impatiently for updates but decided against it, preferring to simply enjoy a quiet moment. She sat down on one of the granite benches and stretched her legs across it, finding herself drawn to the brilliant blue lupine blossoms growing out of the pebble strewn soil behind her. The color held her transfixed for a few seconds as her brain compared this shade of blue to that of Killian's eyes, at least until she finally shrugged it off with a giggle only she heard.

Sleep deprivation was really wearing on her.

Emma didn't allow herself to linger in the courtyard long though as she knew a busy day of research and planning was ahead. She was determined that they were going to get that portal back to Storybrooke opened and was hoping Carlos would return from his venture with confirmation of the most likely place to begin. He was certain that the symbols on the dagger's handle were pointing to a specific location high in the Superstition Mountains, perhaps located in some magical vortex long forgotten by the inhabitants of this area today.

She strolled back into the cafeteria filled with thoughts of magic and all she could do with it once she could feel that power again only to have a chill shoot straight up her spine as the automatic doors closed behind her. And this had nothing to do with the temperature outdoors.

Emma froze as her gaze locked on the profile of a familiar face at the opposite end of the cafeteria near the beverage dispenser. Her eyes darkened and grew wide with fear as she watched the man who had stabbed her husband casually enter the huge, open room with a cardboard box tucked under his arm that appeared to contain two multicolored bouquets of flowers and an oversized baby blue teddy bear.

Kronk was here.

Here in the hospital.

Here in the same room as her and far too close to a nearly defenseless Killian.

Making an abrupt turn to her left, Emma scurried down a corridor heading towards the Emergency department, whispering a silent prayer to herself that Kronk hadn't spotted her. Not sensing anyone following her but not wanting to be out in the wide open hallway either, Emma darted into the ladies' rest room, pausing to get her bearings and gather her thoughts. Her biggest challenge lay in the fact that the main elevator bank was beyond the cafeteria, near the front entrance, which left her cut off without walking right past Kronk.

Think, Emma, she implored herself, pressing her back against the bathroom door while hoping no one entered for the next minute or two. She had to find a way upstairs, a way to get to her husband and protect him. Somewhere, there had to be an accessible stairwell or another elevator but first, she had to get control of her panicked head. She recalled that Carlos had originally chosen this hospital because he knew the head of security but right now, when she needed that bit of information the most, Emma couldn't remember the man's name.

Tim something.

She couldn't exactly walk up to a hospital staff member and request them to page their head of security, Tim Something, and not come off sounding entirely insane.

Cautiously, she tugged open the restroom door, peering tentatively into the corridor for even the slightest glimpse of Nehemiah Kronk but spotting only a single nurse passing by.

Okay, coast appeared to be clear, at least to get to the Emergency department where she could ask someone to call Carlos' friend - if she could somehow remember his damned name… It had something to do with water, like Carlos' surname of Littlecreek, but what? Coldwater? Bilgewater? Oh, hell no! Now Killian and his nautical words were getting in her head…

Stillwater! It was Tim Stillwater, her overworked brain finally rousing the memory as she practically dashed down the corridor until she reached a set of double doors and a semi-circular desk positioned to the left of those same doors. The desk was manned by two nurses, one of whom was speaking to someone on the telephone so Emma approached the second, a stern looking older woman whose once jet black hair was now streaked with pure white strands.

Emma approached the desk trying to appear calm and confident while fighting her internal anxiety. "Excuse me? Would you be able to page a hospital employee for me?"

"Of course," the nurse replied. "Who would you like me to contact?"

"I need you to page your head of security, Tim Stillwater, and have him meet me here," Emma stated, realizing after she'd spat out the words that she sounded perhaps a bit too impatient. If the nurse picked up on it though, she was clearly reserving judgement, showing only the faintest hint of concern on her face. Emma could only imagine some of the things this woman may have seen come through this Emergency room. "My name is Emma Jones. He'll know who I am and I have a situation we need to discuss. I really need you to contact him immediately and please, not over the loudspeakers."

"Should I be concerned with what this about?" the nurse prodded, clearly needing a bit more coercing. "Do we need to initiate security lockdown protocols?"

"No, not yet at least," Emma stated, shaking her head and hands vigorously to get that  _NO_ across. "Please, just get Mr. Stillwater down here as quickly as possible. I don't want anyone getting spooked and doing something stupid." The nurse nodded and picked up her telephone receiver, dialing Tim Stillwater's on-duty cell phone number while Emma shrank away from the desk to wait. Digging out her own phone, Emma pulled up Carlos' number and called him. Their Ranger friend might still be up on the mountain but she needed to try reaching him as well. Unfortunately, her call went straight into his voicemail so she left only a brief message. "Carlos, it's Emma and we've got a problem – Kronk is here. I don't think he saw me, but he's in the building. I'm trying to reach your friend, Tim, for help, but we're going to have to very quickly rethink our plans. Call me back as soon as you can."

After disconnecting her call, Emma stepped back up to the desk and the nurse advised her that she had reached Tim Stillwater and the security chief was on his way. All she could do now was wait. At least the likelihood of Kronk instantly finding his way to Killian's room within the next few minutes was highly improbable.

_At least, it should be improbable_ , she thought, doubt creeping into her tired psyche once again.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are gradually calming down in the real world, so I've been working hard to update both of my WIPs as well as a new shorter fic that is coming soon.
> 
> For this story, we pick up at approximately the same time as the cliffhanger that ended Chapter 17. If you haven't already figured out why Kronk continues to pursue Emma & Killian, I've dropped a few not-so-subtle hints in here.

Carlos managed to make the hike back to his government-issue SUV in approximately fifteen minutes less than it had taken to ascend to the cavern. Armed with photographic evidence of the matching symbols, he had practically skipped down the mountainside, still lost in disbelief that this hidden hiking trail just might hold a gateway to another world. If they were right about everything, by tomorrow, he would be able to physically witness magic. Grandmother had always insisted that it existed and now, they would be able to see its return. He had heard these legends since he was a boy and never dreamed that some might just be true.

He tossed his backpack onto the rear seat before sliding behind the steering wheel and stretching across the center console to flip open the glove compartment, retrieving the charger cord for his phone. Not having a signal out here in the middle of nowhere was quite draining on the battery. He'd barely glanced at the phone all morning except to check the time or to make use of the camera since he knew he wouldn't have service until he reached Highway 60. As soon as his phone was in range of a tower though, his phone chimed with notifications and Carlos would soon learn of the drama unfolding down in the Valley.

Unlike his own beat up Suburban, the Park Service SUVs were fully equipped with built-in Bluetooth so he could listen to his messages without needing to fumble with the speakerphone button. He had only a single message but it had Carlos pulling off to the side of the highway the moment he heard it. There was no mistaking both the urgency and hint of fear in Emma's voice as he listened to her words, realizing that she'd left the voicemail for him just ten minutes earlier. Had she contacted Tim already and if so, what action might they take?

He'd barely screeched to a stop before slamming the gearshift into Park and grabbing his phone, dialing Emma's number impatiently while hoping she would pick up quickly.

"Carlos, I'm so glad you called," Emma answered on the third ring. "Did you get the message I left and are you back in the city yet?"

"Yes, I got the message but no, I'm not quite there yet. I'm still a few miles east of Apache Junction – maybe forty minutes away if I disobey a few speed limits… Did you get ahold of Tim?"

"I had him paged by one of the nurses here in the Emergency department. He's on his way." She didn't sound entirely convinced though.

"I'll give him a call myself in case they didn't relay the urgency, but I'm sure he's on his way. I'll make sure he knows what it's about and call you back when I'm closer to Mesa. I don't know how we'd do it, but I think we may need to get the two of you out of there…" Even as he suggested it, Carlos reflected on how risky that idea might be but he didn't see any other option.

"I'm honestly inclined to agree, but I don't think that would be easy…," Emma replied as a tall, dark-haired man in a cadet blue uniform pushed open one of the double doors across from her. "Carlos, hang on a minute… This might be your friend, Tim, now…"

"Sheriff Jones?" the uniformed man asked as he approached, extending his hand toward her in greeting. Emma nodded as she shook his hand, reading the name on his badge which confirmed who he was even before the security chief introduced himself. "I'm Tim Stillwater, head of security here at Mesa General. Glad to finally meet you in person, despite the circumstances…"

"Tell Tim hello for me," Carlos said with a chuckle from his end of the phone call. "I'll leave you in his capable hands and call you back when I reach Mesa."

"Excuse me one moment, Mr. Stillwater," Emma apologized as she wrapped up the call. "Thanks, Carlos." She disconnected the call and returned her attention to the man standing before her. "Carlos days hello and he's on his way."

"No need to apologize," Tim replied. "If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me as I got dragged into an incident out in the ambulance bay trying to help restrain some high as a kite guy paramedics brought in who attacked two orderlies. So sorry for that delay, but how can I be of assistance?"

Emma contemplated her words carefully. She knew that Carlos had provided Tim with portions of their situation but she hadn't been privy to those conversations so she didn't know exactly how much had been discussed. "You're familiar with how my husband got here?"

"I'm sure I don't know all of the details but I know that Carlos rescued you from up in the mountains after your husband was stabbed by someone. He also told me that the attacker was still at large which was why he chose to bring you here for my oversight…"

"He's here," Emma interrupted, not wanting to waste too much more time explaining right at this moment. "I just saw Killian's assailant, Nehemiah Kronk, in the cafeteria a few minutes ago. He was carrying around a box of flower bouquets, probably pretending to be a florist…"

"Okay, in that case, why don't you come with me?" Tim suggested, reaching for the radio clipped to his belt. "Let's go look at the security camera footage so you can point out the man, then I'll have my people get this place on lockdown…"

"No, you don't want a lockdown," Emma stopped him. "That might push this guy to do something rash. I don't want to put anyone else at risk."

"Okay, Sheriff," Tim began, taking her warning under advisement, "how do you think we should proceed?"

"Well, the first thing I need to do is get to my husband. He doesn't even know any of this yet but I don't want to go back through the cafeteria to the main elevators in case Kronk is still there. Is there some other way to get upstairs?"

"There's another elevator back this way that isn't open to the public. Your husband is still in the ICU right?"

"Yes. He was sleeping when I came downstairs to get coffee so he doesn't know Kronk is too close…" Emma stopped when she realized she was rambling, worried that Tim might think she was unstable.

"Do you think this Mr. Kronk knows your husband's room number?"

"We've kept that information pretty quiet so I doubt it. My parents don't even know the room number, but Kronk knows how seriously wounded Killian is. I don't know if he'd think about ICU though."

"This is a very large hospital campus so there are a lot of rooms for him to search unless he knows where to begin. Obviously, he would eliminate certain floors like pediatrics, but it will still take a while. Our staff is trained to protect our patients' privacy, but if he starts talking to other patients or their families and friends, we can't control what information they might give out."

"We're going to have to get Killian out of here," Emma stated as Tim pushed open one of the double doors into the Emergency area. "And we've got to do it fast, before Kronk finds us."

"This guy's pretty tenacious to have hunted you down. What exactly does he want from you?"

"I honestly don't know," Emma replied and she didn't even have to skirt around that answer. She really didn't know for certain why Kronk was trying so hard to find them. "It feels like he needs something from us and maybe it's about something that happened after the attack… I just don't really know…"

"Hard to gauge the intent of some people," Tim said, not questioning her vague response. "Now, I'll be happy to help you both out with getting your husband moved to another facility, but are you sure about this? It might not be safe to move him."

"No, it might not be, but I have to weigh which would be the bigger risk – potentially causing my husband further injury by moving him or the possibility of putting others in danger if Kronk doesn't find what he wants?" Emma's dilemma was certainly a valid one and she sensed that Tim didn't envy the choices she was facing. She knew she would also be making this same argument to medical staff very soon, but she didn't doubt her decision and she knew that neither would Killian. No innocent people would be put at risk for their sake.

* * *

 

By the time Carlos called back, Emma had already engaged in two separate arguments with medical personnel who didn't agree that Killian should be discharged and moved to another facility even if his condition had improved overnight. Tim Stillwater had intervened as best he could, explaining that it was a necessary relocation due to personal security concerns for the law enforcement officers. Tim was in agreement that remaining here at Mesa General wouldn't be safe for anyone so Emma had made a phone call to Dr. Whale, requesting a favor from him to set up a fabricated transfer of Killian to a private, unnamed location. After a few minutes of protesting, Whale agreed and had his administrative assistant draw up formal-looking instructions which were sent to Killian's attending physician in Arizona. The Mesa medical staff had finally relented, still voicing their disapproval while a nurse began disconnecting the multitude of monitors and machines he'd been connected to.

With Carlos only a few minutes away, Emma was hurrying to help Killian get dressed while Tim and his staff kept a watchful eye on the hallways and security camera monitors for any sign of the man Emma had identified for them in footage filmed earlier. Getting Killian clothed however was proving to be a more daunting challenge than planned due to his mobility limitations, and he was growing increasingly frustrated by his inability to perform even the simple task of pulling on his own trousers. She'd grabbed the most basic pair she could find amongst the clothing Carlos had acquired for them a few days ago – elastic waist, soft fleece pants which weren't too dissimilar to the ones Emma often wore to bed.

Killian despised this helpless feeling as he lay there allowing his wife to dress him. His chest still itched from the irritating adhesive that had once secured various medical sensors to his skin and he was anxious to be rid of the last remaining tether – the IV catheter taped to his forearm which was delivering a last dose of medication. He might as well get the last of the pain medicine before they departed this building. Emma had a long-sleeved, button-up shirt draped across his waist and was digging his boots out of the backpack when the nurse returned to yank out the IV, placing a bandage over the tiny crimson bubble left behind.

Emma gave her husband a quick sideways glance as she gathered up their belongings, shoving them nonchalantly into the backpack while awaiting their friend's call. As much as she was loathe to admit it, she still found the sight of Killian's bandaged chest unsettling, but she did her best to keep up a brave face. She knew he was doing the same in attempt to bolster her spirits, but she recognized the cracks in the façade, knowing all of this exertion was bound to take a toll on him.

With his arm free from the tubing, Killian reached for the shirt, determined to do at least one thing for himself. Despite a mild tremor, he managed to hold up the charcoal grey shirt long enough to shove his maimed arm into a sleeve, tugging the fabric as far up onto his shoulder as he could manage, already thankful to no longer have his deformity on display. He then raised his right arm above his head, reaching behind his neck in attempt to grasp the collar of the shirt, but it was just beyond his fingertips. With his teeth already gnashed from the discomfort this position was inflicting on his body, he struggled with the reality that he was going to need to ask for help. Emma spared him that indignity though as she moved swiftly to his side, taking hold of the fabric and moving it into a position where Killian could grab it and maneuver the other sleeve so he could slip his right arm inside. The pain he'd just inflicted on himself was agonizing but at least he felt as though he'd accomplished something, however small, but he conceded defeat when he stared at the row of itty bitty buttons.

"Could use a hand with these, Love," he said, eyes still downcast with embarrassment.

"Of course," Emma replied without judgement, recognizing how difficult all of this was for him. She buttoned it as rapidly as she could, wanting to be ready to move the moment Carlos called. Killian didn't even fight her as she pulled socks onto his bare feet then shoved his boots on. He was basically ready to go as soon as an orderly brought them a transport chair.

It was Tim Stillwater who first poked his head into the room though, informing them that one of his guards spotted Kronk on the floor below them, delivering one of the bouquets Emma had seen him carrying earlier, evidently in attempt to maintain his cover. He seemed to have no indication that he'd been made which was Emma's one consolation. Kronk was just getting too close though, she fretted, so caught up in that thought that she practically jumped when her phone rang. Carlos' timing couldn't have been better.

The conversation was brief – Carlos instructed her to meet him outside by the ambulance bay. She relayed the plan to Tim who ducked out of the room in search of the tardy orderly while Emma tossed their last few items into the backpack, the last of which was the specimen jar containing the broken tip of the dagger. They were going to need this later.

In minutes, they were ready to go and despite some minor grumbling on Killian's part, Emma and the orderly managed to get the pirate maneuvered into the wheelchair. He wasn't particularly enthusiastic about his wife having to push him, still cursing his inability to walk, but with no other choice available at the present, he swallowed his pride and accepted the aid.

Handing Killian the backpack to hold onto while she pushed the chair, Emma was noticeably tense while they awaited Tim's signal that Carlos was in position. Tim had already waved off the orderly, circumventing standard hospital protocol in this situation to avoid additional sets of prying eyes. So many thoughts were swirling through her head but her primary concern was for Killian. The morphine would wear off soon, plunging him back into severe agony. It pained her to even think of subjecting him to it all over again but hopefully, Grandmother would have a solution.

"Carlos is here," Tim announced as he re-entered the room. "Coast is clear to the service elevator, but we need to go now. I've got two of my men guarding the main elevators and one watching the east stairwell. They've been ordered not to engage Mr. Kronk should they encounter him, but I don't want to push our luck."

"We're ready," Emma assured the security chief. "No one else has spotted Kronk yet?"

"We've been keeping a close watch on the security cameras," Tim began as Emma carefully spun the wheelchair around, then pushed it through the doorway and made the turn to her left. "Unfortunately, the cameras don't cover all areas, but unless something has changed in the past few minutes, he's still on the third floor." Emma nodded, quickening her pace as Tim led the way down the unauthorized corridor toward the private elevator.

Reaching the ground floor, the elevator doors parted to reveal another uniformed guard standing sentry. The guard stepped aside to allow them to pass while confirming to his boss that their quarry wasn't in sight. No words were spoken as Tim cleared a path through the busy Emergency area for Emma to follow, making their way toward a side door that exited into the ambulance bay which was typically only used by paramedics. On the other side of that door, Carlos stood outside of the Park Service SUV and he immediately jumped into action to help Emma get Killian into the vehicle. They had to do this quickly as they didn't want to remain out here, exposed, for too long.

* * *

 

While Emma and Carlos scrambled to get her mobility-impaired husband into the relative safety of the SUV, above them, Nehemiah Kronk had reached the fourth floor, closing in on their prior location. Intensive Care was a little trickier for the former Marshal to navigate as the rules generally permitted only immediate family. He'd approached the desk in his guise of delivery man, inquiring about a patient by name of Killian Jones and very briefly explaining that he had a delivery from the patient's family back in New England, but they hadn't known his room number. The nurse behind the desk denied him any information, but as he listened to her response about patient privacy and safety, Kronk's eyes were soaking up every little detail around the desk. He noticed that the rack of patient charts contained six clipboards, but the names or codes printed on their labels were far too small to read from his vantage point so he mentally tried to correlate them to the surrounding rooms that might appear to be occupied. Out of the eight rooms in this ward, six had closed doors and but open curtains to allow nurses clear view of the patients, one had an open door and open curtain, and the eighth had its door open but curtains were drawn closed. If occupied rooms were indicated by those closed doors, what was different about this possibly unoccupied room that led to its curtains being closed?

Kronk grinned at his good fortune as an alarm suddenly drew the nurse's attention away. In the brief seconds that her back was turned to focus on another patient, Kronk darted into the room with the open door, prepared to apologize should the room be occupied but he couldn't help but indulge his curiosity that this room could be related to the pirate.

Ducking inside, he could tell that the room was either occupied or had been very recently vacated as the bed linens were still rumpled and a not-fully depleted bag of IV fluids still hung above the bed. The patient's chart had already been removed so Kronk took a brief inventory in hopes something might have been left behind that could confirm the identity of the room's occupant. The countertops were bare and monitors were already powered off, but he realized that the trash can hadn't yet been emptied as a basic brown, heavily taped cardboard box caught his eye. He snatched the box out of the waste can and a smile widened across his face as he recognized the addressee – Emma Jones, Care of Ranger C. Littlecreek.

The remainder of the address label was torn but he had enough evidence to confirm his suspicion. The Storybrooke savior and her pirate husband had been here, the injury he'd inflicted on the pirate severe enough to warrant Intensive Care treatment and scrutiny. He also realized that it meant that the item he sought likely wasn't here any longer. A surgeon would certainly have removed it, probably with complications, but it meant he'd still have to track down Sheriff Emma and his first clue was the second name on the discarded package.

C. Littlecreek. Ranger?

Was that how they'd made their way off of the mountain? Assistance from a Park Ranger?

He tried to speculate how this new information would aid him when his train of thought was momentarily derailed when a young, dark-haired woman clad in flowery scrubs strolled into the room pushing a small cart, presumably to collect the used bed linens.

"Oh, sorry," the startled woman stammered. "Wasn't expecting anyone to be in here…"

"Apologies," Kronk replied, plastering a fake smile onto his lips. "The patient who was in this room, Mr. Jones, do you know what happened to him?"

"Sorry, all I was told was that the patient room was empty and I got sent to clean up," the woman responded.

"Ah, well, someone Mr. Jones knew back East sent him a get well bouquet that I was trying to deliver. Unless we have a new location to deliver it, I guess it's going back to the shop," Kronk explained, hoping it would make his presence less questionable.

"Afraid I can't help you," the young woman stated as she yanked the blanket from the bed. Kronk smiled at her one last time before exiting the room, thankful that the nurse at the desk was still occupied and didn't appear to have noticed his nosing around the vacant room without authorization.

Pausing in the elevator lobby, Kronk took a moment to gather his thoughts and ponder his options. Had the pirate been move to a different room within this same facility or had he been discharged? The latter seemed unlikely from Intensive Care, but then the possibility remained that Jones died. If he wasn't dead, he might have been moved, but was he still here or had he been transferred to another facility? There were still dozens of rooms to search in this building but while he knew he was on the right track, should he keep searching or regroup and try another approach?

He thought about that second name on the torn address label, C. Littlecreek. He wasn't in Texas so the title of Ranger most likely would refer to a National Parks Service Ranger, the same inclination he'd had earlier, before he'd been interrupted. A fortuitous encounter with a Park Ranger had likely saved the pirate's life and it didn't seem like much of a stretch to think that the Sheriff might have befriended that same Ranger. She'd obviously had her package mailed to the Ranger's address, probably a place of employment based on use of the title. A Park Service field office maybe?

Now, armed with this new lead, he was convinced he was close. His prize was well within his grasp and with that, he'd be home soon.


	19. Chapter 19

Despite Emma's suggestion that a motel would be the best place for them to hide out for the night, Grandmother Bending Willow would hear nothing of it, insisting that Emma and the still ailing Killian return to her home. Emma wisely came to the realization that it was pointless to argue with the elder woman and graciously accepted the offer, secretly thankful for the assistance Grandmother could provide to Killian as well. The pirate dozed most of the way to the mobile home park while Emma kept an anxious watch behind them, worried Kronk might be right on their tail. Thankfully, as Carlos made the last turn into the trailer park, there was no one following.

Once they arrived at Grandmother's house, it was no easy feat to get Killian from the vehicle into the home, especially since this time, he could barely stand by himself, let alone walk. Carlos and Joseph finally agreed that the easiest way would be to shift Killian from the SUV seat into the wheelchair that Tim had allowed them to borrow, then lift chair and all through the doorway - which they knew from the challenges the paramedics had encountered with the gurney a few days ago was going to be a rather tight fit. It was an awkward process for Carlos and Joseph and a jarring ordeal for Killian, but somehow, they managed to get the wounded man inside and settled into Grandmother's recliner. She had her living room all prepared with pillows, sheets, and blankets waiting so they wouldn't have to struggle trying to get all the way back to the guest bedroom. An additional stack of bedding graced the sofa as well so Emma could remain close to Killian without them both fighting the narrow confines of the bedroom either.

Emma didn't even know why she'd been surprised to discover the huge pot of soup simmering on the stove for lunch. All she knew was that it smelled amazing and she was beyond grateful. However horrible the circumstances had been that had brought them to Arizona, Emma would be forever thankful for the gracious twist of fate that had introduced these amazing people into their lives.

Grandmother kept the lunch conversation light, sensing Emma's tension as the younger woman seemed distant. Emma kept a watchful eye on Killian as she ate her soup, his shaky hand losing some of the broth as he brought the spoon to his mouth. He was already frustrated enough with his own condition that she tried to allow him this dignity of feeding himself - even if he only managed a few spoonfuls before pushing the bowl away and dropping the spoon onto the tray resting across his lap. He hadn't really eaten much in the past few days (with the exception of a few sips of broth the previous evening and two or three bites of something resembling runny oatmeal that morning) so no one had really expected Killian to have much of an appetite.

After lunch, Grandmother insisted that everyone give Killian some peace and quiet and allow him some rest. So, while she stacked the lunch dishes in the sink to wash later, Emma got her husband comfortable, draping one of the brightly colored wool blankets over his legs and giving him a quick, almost chaste kiss on the lips. Killian returned a faint, exhausted smile as he closed his eyes, sleep ready to overtake him any moment.

Before they were allowed to begin discussing the day's events and plotting the next step, Grandmother ushered Emma and Carlos out of the house, intending to inspect Killian's bandages without an audience and without disrupting him. Of course, that wasn't her only motivation as she hovered above her patient.

"There is no need to keep secrets," Grandmother stated as she pressed the back of her hand to Killian's forehead, noting the warmth of his skin. "Does Emma know that the fever and tremors are returning?" She tapped a bony index finger against his hand.

"I've not said anything, but I would assume she suspects it," Killian replied. "I didn't wish to worry her more than necessary but had she asked, I would have blamed the fever on the stress of relocating from the hospital room and the tremors would easily be explained with the same."

"The symptoms may be manageable now, but you should be honest," she chided him. "For now – sleep. When you wake, should you need it, I'll prepare something for the pain - and then you should tell your wife that the potion is wearing off. We will have to keep a close watch on your symptoms, but I will remain hopeful that the progress will be slower this time."

"Aye – this time…," Killian grumbled, although the grin that crossed his face as he tried hard not to chuckle betrayed him. He winced at the discomfort in his chest from the tiny guffaw that escaped.

Grandmother's dark eyes smiled back at him, but she was all business. "Rest," she ordered. "I'll be nearby should you need assistance."

* * *

Outside of the cozy, yellow mobile home, Emma took a minuscule sip from a bottle of water as she and Carlos strolled down Grandmother's street to the park's picnic area at the end of the cul-de-sac. She stepped up on the bench and levered herself up to sit on the table top while Carlos chose to remain standing, although he leaned his weight against the light pole. While the picnic area was out in the open, it was rarely utilized so it offered some semblance of privacy, allowing them to speak freely without fear of prying eyes.

"Okay," Emma began, absentmindedly tapping her boot heel against the withering pine bench. "Now that we can discuss this, you said earlier that you found the cavern with the portal symbol?"

"I sure did," Carlos replied with a smile. "Look – I took some photos of the glyphs on the cave walls." He pulled his phone out of his pant pocket and opened up the device's photo gallery. "They're not exactly perfect because of the light in there, but here – you can see that swirly one and it looks exactly like the one on the dagger's handle…"

Emma swiped through the photographs in the phone's memory, eyes wide with hope now that they could definitively match the symbols. This cavern had to be the spot where they could activate the portal. "So, I guess my next questions should be – where exactly is this cave and how do we get to it?"

"It's up in the Superstition Mountains, on the northwestern edge of Lost Dutchman State Park," Carlos replied as he fished a rolled paper tube out of his jacket's interior pocket. "It's just a few miles from that way station where I found the two of you."

"That was some pretty rough terrain," Emma recalled.

"I'm not gonna lie, it is," Carlos responded as he unfurled a detailed map of the Tonto National Forest across the top of the picnic table. Emma shifted her position to get a better look at the image, recognizing it as being nearly identical to the one she'd seen on the desk in the tiny Ranger way station cabin. Carlos stabbed his index finger onto an area that was near the center of the map. "This is where the way station is located…" He then tapped his finger on the map again to indicate another place. "This here is where the cavern is located," he explained as he then drew his fingertip along a dotted line that indicated the border of the state park. "This area here encompasses Lost Dutchman State Park so as you can see, the cave is in a fairly desolate, remote location."

His finger slid across the map's surface about an inch and a half to a thin, dark line that Emma assumed indicated a road. "This is the service road that heads into that part of the park. We can take it to here…" He traced the road with his fingertip to a spot where it intersected a faint dashed line. "This is as far as we can go by car. We'll have to hike the rest of the way and it's about two and a half miles. I made it from the road to the cave in about an hour, but obviously, it won't be as easy with your husband in tow."

"Yeah, I don't imagine that the trail is gonna be wheelchair accessible…," she deadpanned, still unsure of that aspect of their plan.

"I have something we can use for transport, but no matter what, it will still slow us down and obviously, we're under a time crunch here."

Emma sighed as she leaned forward, resting her elbows atop her knees as her hands cupped her jaw. "We've got one day left in the Blood Moon window – assuming that timeline can be believed. Plus, the potion is gonna start wearing off soon – if it hasn't already… We don't know how long it might be until Killian is completely incapacitated again."

"I know, but we're going to have to wait until first light," Carlos said, much to Emma's chagrin, but he continued with his reasoning. "By the time we'd get supplies together and get up there, it would be getting dark when we reached the cave. I _don't_ want to be up there in the dark."

"Me either," Emma reluctantly agreed. "This trek is going to be difficult enough as it is, but you're sure you have a way for us to safely transport Killian?"

"Yes, I'm sure, but we're also going to have to watch the weather. There's a cold front moving in overnight that's supposed to spawn scattered thunderstorms and I can say for a fact that they're far more likely to flare up over those mountains than here in the Valley. Rain and the mud it would create would definitely hamper our progress, and if we do get thunderstorms, it probably won't be safe to go out there at all. Grandmother would tell you that no Navajo wants to take any chances with lightning."

"Well, there's one advantage to the possibility of thunderstorms – they possess an abundance of magical energy that I can draw from. I'll need every bit I can muster to repair that dagger and to then open up the portal with it. I just hope that Grandmother was right when she said that those mountains contain remnants of hidden magic too."

"I've never had reason to doubt her," Carlos chuckled. "If she says there's magic up there, it's there."

"Alright, then let's start getting a list together of what we'll need for tomorrow."

* * *

With one brief call to directory assistance, Nehemiah Kronk had a contact phone number for the National Park Service local field office in Scottsdale as well as a street address. He pondered his options for a few minutes, finally deciding that his best first approach would be to call the office. Certainly, they would have some way of forwarding a call or at least a method to leave a message for Ranger C. Littlecreek.

Dialing the number, Kronk silently cursed the automated answering system as he never knew which combination of prompts would lead him to an actual human – assuming any really did. Most of the prompts sounded like redirects to pre-recorded, informational blurbs such as park hours, rules, and regulations. But, after suffering through the lengthy messages, he at last heard a prompt asking him to press the 9 button if he needed additional assistance. Perhaps this would get him in contact with an actual person.

"Parks Service, Scottsdale office," came the woman's voice on the other end of the phone line. "How may I direct your call?"

"Ah, hello Miss," Kronk pretended to stumble with his words as he replied to the female voice. "I'm really hoping you might be able to provide a little help… I was out hiking a few days ago out at Lost Dutchman Park and had a bit of an accident... Ranger Littlecreek was such a huge assistance to me and I wanted to give proper thanks."

"Well, Ranger Littlecreek isn't in the office, but if you'd like, I'll be happy to connect you to his voicemail. If he's within range of a tower, the call connects to his cell phone, otherwise it will go straight to his voicemail."

"That would be lovely. Thank you so much!" Kronk replied, trying to keep his fake tone sounding pleasant and gracious as he was now one giant step closer to locating the Sheriff and the pirate.

* * *

"I hate to repeat myself here, but are you absolutely certain that there's a way to get Killian up to that cavern?" Emma asked as she stared at Carlos' map, trying to imagine the terrain they were to encounter tomorrow. When they'd been so unceremoniously dropped out of the portal, Killian had at least been able to walk.

"Trust me – I've got that covered," Carlos assured her. "It won't be graceful, and it probably won't be very comfortable, but it'll do the job."

"I suppose you're the wilderness expert around here, so I guess I'll have to believe that."

"I promise you, it's less of a stretch than me believing that Captain Hook is actually sleeping in Grandmother's recliner," he retorted.

"Touché," Emma laughed, preparing to ask another question when Carlos' phone began to ring, its blaring musical ringtone catching them both by surprise. He yanked the phone out of his pocket to silence it, glancing at the display screen as he did.

"It's a forwarded call from the field office," he explained as he squelched the sound. "Don't recognize the caller though. I'll let it roll to voicemail."

"No, it's okay," Emma replied. "It's probably important if they're forwarding it to you on your day off."

"Okay, okay... Excuse me a moment then…," he apologized as he took a few steps away from the picnic table while answering the call. "Ranger Littlecreek here. What can I do for you?"

"Ranger Littlecreek," a deep, masculine voice repeated his name in his ear. "I believe you may be able to assist me…" There was a momentary pause before the voice continued. "Where is Sheriff Emma?"

Stunned at the mention of Emma's name, Carlos fell silent before asking for clarification. "Sheriff Emma? Who is this?"

"My name is Nehemiah Kronk. If you know the Sheriff as well as I believe you do, you should already know who I am."

"Unfortunately, I do," Carlos growled, now taking a defensive posture while his brain tried to process how Kronk might have learned his identity and phone number. "What the hell do you want?"

"I want to know where the Sheriff is. Since she had a package delivered to your address, I'm well aware that you are in contact with her and I need to speak to her."

"And what makes you think that I'll give you that information?" Carlos asked, his raised voice garnering Emma's attention. "As a sworn officer of the law, I'll be damned if I'll give you any information about the Sheriff's whereabouts!"

At the loudly mentioned title _Sheriff,_ Emma realized who Carlos was speaking to. She had no inkling as to how Kronk had managed to get Carlos' number, but this was her battle. "Give me the phone," she ordered as Carlos vehemently shook his head _No. "_ Please – just give me the phone. I know it's Kronk." Carlos frowned as he begrudgingly relinquished the phone to Emma, passing the device to her with a look that seemed to warn her against talking to this man, but Carlos also wasn't about to argue with her either.

"Hello, Kronk," Emma greeted him, trying to disguise the trace of fear in her voice with irritation. "What the hell do you want? I know you've been looking all over greater Phoenix for us, but this city has gotten a bit bigger than it was in your time…"

"So, you know who I really am?" Kronk responded, unfazed that Emma would have learned of his _history._ "Then you should know that you have something I need, Sheriff." His tone clearly mocked her irritability. "I intend to track you down to recover my property."

"Good luck with that," she scoffed. "If you had any idea where we were, you wouldn't be wasting your time calling. I don't know what you want from us, but we'll be long gone from here long before you find us…"

"I just want to get home, too," Kronk insisted. "And you have something I need to do that."

"The dagger won't help you travel back in time," she stated as Carlos' ears perked up with mention of the weapon. Did Kronk know that the dagger had been in the package somehow?

"Do you really think that's what I want to do?" Kronk laughed into her ear. "Why would I want to go back to that backward time? And the dagger itself is useless right now - which is why I left it back in your quaint little town. Unless it's whole, it isn't any good to either of us."

Kronk's words had the cogs churning inside her mind. They'd already established that it had to have been the dagger – specifically Killian's blood activating the dagger's magic – that opened the portal. Kronk had left it behind intentionally because it was broken. And it was broken because the tip snapped off when it struck Killian's spine. In an instant, it all fit - Kronk was after the missing piece of the blade and there was no way in hell she was going to hand it over.

"You still have no idea where to find us," she responded as she at last was able to put the missing piece of motive into place.

"I may not know your exact location, but I know who you are with, so it's only a matter of time until I find you both," Kronk insisted, exuding more confidence than he really should've had.

"Goodbye, Kronk," she spat as she disconnected the call, her hand trembling as she returned the phone to its owner.

"You okay?" Carlos asked her, fully understanding her unease with the call and of course, the caller.

"You think there's any chance that he knows where we are?" she wondered.

"That's pretty unlikely," Carlos assured her. "It was a forwarded call from the field office so he doesn't actually have my cell phone number and no one there is going to give out my personal information like that number or my address. Even if he happened to stumble upon it, he's not going to learn anything about Grandmother, so you're safe here. There are only a handful of people who know we're here and I trust every single one of them."

"Alright – you've made me feel a little better," she replied with a ghost of a smile on her lips. "But honestly, I would feel a whole lot better right now if we got out of the open."

"I'm sure he has absolutely no idea where to find you," he insisted, hoping to convince her that they were safe. "It's probably far more dangerous to risk Grandmother's wrath if we wake your husband too soon." He'd meant that statement to lighten the mood, but he couldn't say that he was any less concerned about the situation himself. He almost wanted to suggest making the trek up to the mountain tonight, but thankfully, common sense prevailed as he knew they still had preparations to make. He was determined to see his friends make it home, but they had to do this the right way, and at the moment, getting Grandmother's counsel was a necessity.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While the past few weeks have been some of the most difficult I've experienced, I managed to keep my sanity by getting lost in the fantasy of fandom, reading and writing as much as I could to keep myself from breaking. I'm so thankful for all of the talented folks that have helped keep my mind occupied and also helped me get back on track with my own stories including the latest update of this tale. Time is running short to reach the portal deep in the mountains and Emma finds herself having second thoughts as to whether she's doing the right thing. Thankfully, she has the wisdom of Grandmother Bending Willow right there to help.

Tense preparations for the next day's hike into the Superstition Mountains dominated the rest of the afternoon. Emma and Grandmother Bending Willow toiled to assemble their backpacks with all of the gear they would need – canteens, a well-stocked first aid kit, matches and emergency food and blankets. Emma's pack would also contain the broken dagger and its severed tip so that as soon as she sensed the faintest little tingle of magic, she could repair the blade in preparation for opening the portal.

Needing to feel at least somewhat useful, Killian insisted on looking over the weather forecast, well aware that they'd need to time their ascent correctly so that they could harness the energy from the impending storms without being caught vulnerable to the full fury of the Thunder gods. He slid his index finger across the surface of the tablet Carlos had lent him, looking intently at the brightly colored radar maps showing the projected path of the storm, his thoughts drifting to his countless years spent at sea and how useful such maps and forecasts would have been back then. But then his reminiscing was interrupted by yet another tremor seizing his hand, fingers coiling into a fist as he fought the urge to slam it into something. With the borrowed electronic device resting on his outstretched legs, he didn't dare risk dropping it in the midst of what would be an inevitably futile folly anyway.

As she rolled a lightweight wool blanket into a size suitable to stuff into a backpack, Emma's peripheral vision caught sight of Killian's sudden twitch and without him needing to say a single word, she knew what was plaguing him. She'd hoped they would have had more time before the cursed symptoms returned but it was fairly apparent that time was running short. From across the room, Grandmother's knowing eyes caught sight of both Killian's struggles and Emma's crestfallen reaction and she decided this was the perfect moment to pull her young friend aside and instill another confidence booster.

"Let's take a short break," Grandmother said as she patted Emma's shoulder. "I think it's a good time to make some tea. Would you be so kind as to fetch the box of tea from the cabinet above the stove while I fill the kettle?"

"Sure," Emma replied, not really interested in tea at the moment but still willing to assist their generous host.

"I have a multitude of different blends in that cabinet," the elder woman continued as Emma made her way to the kitchen. "I would recommend the hibiscus or the one marked afternoon blend. They're both mild flavors and very relaxing."

"Okay… hibiscus sounds… different, but since we're already living on the edge, what the heck? Let's go with the flowery one…" Emma laughed, recognizing now that this was an exercise to calm her nerves and provide a brief distraction from her worries. Grandmother wanted her to focus and intuitively, Emma knew it, even if she did feel she was entitled to a few stress-induced meltdowns.

* * *

A few miles away, Carlos Littlecreek sat anxiously behind the wheel of his Park Service SUV in a bustling truck stop parking lot just off Interstate 10 waiting for one of his fellow Rangers to arrive with a few supplies he needed from the field office, but didn't dare go get himself. It had been slightly awkward explaining what he needed and why he couldn't make it back to the office to procure the items himself – not to mention explaining why he needed them on his day off. He'd managed to throw together a plausible excuse that he'd misplaced his badge to enter the building and was too embarrassed to have to be buzzed in through the front door.

Whether his fabricated story was actually believable enough or whether his colleague had simply taken pity on him, Junior Ranger Byron Whittaker had agreed to bring the requested items and meet Carlos at the busy truck stop. The reality of it was that all of this subterfuge was necessary because Carlos had no way of knowing exactly what Nehemiah Kronk knew about him. Kronk knew his name and where he worked, but did he know what he looked like? Would he have staked out the field office in attempt to stalk Carlos to wherever the Joneses were hiding? The Ranger didn't dare take that chance, so he'd made a phone call to the one co-worker who looked least like him but would be willing to help him out, and then chose the inconspicuous truck stop as a rendezvous point = far from both the field office in Scottsdale and Grandmother's home in Mesa.

From his vantage point, parked at the side of the shop and restaurant building, Carlos could see traffic entering and departing from either entrance driveway and he'd been keeping watch for a matching white SUV. He'd arrived about ten minutes earlier, making sure that he arrived well ahead of Ranger Whittaker and trying his best to remain inconspicuous as he surveyed the steady flow of vehicles. Park Service vehicles weren't uncommon around here, but Carlos was well aware that he might look a tad suspicious since he wasn't in uniform.

At least he wouldn't have to hang around too much longer, he thought to himself as he at last spotted the vehicle he'd been impatiently awaiting. Whittaker turned right from the access road into the truck stop's first entrance and drove past the gasoline pumps as Carlos had instructed. He eased into the empty parking space next to Carlos' vehicle by the less congested side doors where they could unload the supplies from Whittaker's vehicle. Once he parked, the junior Ranger exited the SUV and ambled around to the rear hatch that an obviously hurried Carlos had already raised.

A transfer from Montana, Whittaker probably had the palest skin that Carlos had ever seen here in Arizona and, as was usually the case, it was tinged with reddish blotches where he hadn't applied quite enough sunscreen. Beneath the brim of his hat, a few unruly strands of copper hued hair poked out. No one would ever make the mistake of thinking this young man was Ranger Littlecreek and although Carlos did feel a little guilty for roping Whittaker into this strictly for his looks, he wasn't taking any chances – especially after Kronk's phone call. Of course, it was highly unlikely that the former lawman from the 19th century would even recognize a Navajo from an Apache or even a Hopi for that matter, but why risk it?

"Byron, my friend, than you so much for lending me a hand here," Carlos greeted his colleague while his eyes remained focused on the cargo hold of the SUV, scanning for the items he'd requested so he could grab them quickly. "Really appreciate this."

"I suppose I should ask you now why you need all of this since you were in such a hurry earlier," Whittaker commented as he reached inside the back of the vehicle and pulled out a duffel bag while Carlos scooped up an armful of rope before returning to open the rear hatch of his own SUV. "And aren't you off today?"

"Yeah, but I have to head out to one of the remote outposts tomorrow and remembered that we needed to restock some of the rescue supplies as well as the sled. No one bothered to take one back out there after the last hiker we pulled out." Carlos wasn't sure if his excuse sounded genuine, but it didn't really matter at this point since Whittaker had brought everything he'd needed and Carlos trusted that Whittaker would keep this between them. "Would've gone and got all this myself, but I remembered I'd taken all of my laundry over to my sister's and left my badge in my damned pocket. If I'd driven all the way back out to her place in Goodyear, I wouldn't have made it back to the office before rush hour and I really didn't wasn't to get caught in that traffic…"

"So you let me haul all this crap out to you?" Whittaker asked with a smirk.

"You're the Junior Ranger here," Carlos taunted him, reciprocating the snarky comment. "Feels good to boss you around every now and then."

"Yeah, thanks Littlecreek," Whittaker huffed. "You can unload the rest of it yourself…"

"Yeah, yeah… insubordinate…" Carlos chuckled as he eased a long, mostly metal contraption out of the back of Whittaker's vehicle. Of all of the items he'd asked for, this one was the most important for their journey tomorrow, but it wasn't exactly headed to a remote outpost.

* * *

The shrill whistle of the tea kettle brought Emma back to reality. Sometime after retrieving the box of hibiscus tea and pulling a couple of mugs out of the cupboard, she'd zoned out entirely, lost deep in thought - or more correctly became overwhelmed with worry. She'd barely noticed Grandmother standing beside her, immediately switching off the burner and removing the kettle from the heat. If the elder woman had been aware of Emma's space-out, she kept the knowledge to herself.

"Kettle is hot and ready," Grandmother announced with a smile as she turned to face Emma, but there was a complicated air to the old woman's gaze that had Emma questioning whether or not there was an alternate meaning to her words. Or maybe I'm just over thinking this, Emma reminded herself.

"Great," Emma replied cheerily, not wanting to appear overwrought, even if she was. "Let me see if Killian wants some. I'll go ask so I don't make him shout." Normally, she would have just bellowed across the room, but she needed the excuse to leave the kitchen as her head was just too full of competing thoughts to face Grandmother's scrutiny right now.

While it only took a few steps from the kitchen to reach the attached area designated as the living room, from her current vantage point she couldn't yet tell if Killian was awake or asleep as his back was toward her. Once she was close enough to see his profile, it was pretty evident that he'd drifted back into an uneasy sleep. His head was slumped with his chin nearly tucked to his chest and Carlos' tablet lay across his lap, hand resting atop the device. She nearly opened her mouth anyway to ask if he wanted some tea, but instead, she slid the tablet from beneath his protective fingers and placed it on the end table to his left. She straightened the colorful woolen blanket that he'd kicked down to his ankles and draped it back over top of him, pausing for a moment to brush the back of her hand against his forehead before she strayed from his side. The frown that crossed her face said it all – fever was making an unwelcome return.

"Emma?" Grandmother called, as if reading her mind. "Is everything alright?"

Emma stepped away from the recliner before replying, keeping her eyes averted from Grandmother's gaze. "He's asleep, but he's really warm. The fever's coming back earlier than we expected."

"I will prepare some medicine for when he wakes," the old woman assured her. "For now, we will allow him to rest. He needs it to maintain his strength."

"What strength?" Emma scoffed, pressing her back into the kitchen counter as she felt her resolve cracking. "He can't walk, his fever is coming back with a vengeance and we're plotting a way to drag him up the side of a mountain tomorrow in an attempt to reach a cave that may or may not be the location of a magical portal that could take us home or might end up being one giant failure that will leave him too weak to get home any other way…" She threw her arms up in frustration as she rambled on until she realized that Grandmother was now standing directly in front of her, her weathered fingers wrapping around Emma's wrists.

"Look at me, child," Grandmother implored, speaking in a hushed, calm voice. "Carlos and I will be here to assist you in whatever you decide, but you have to be certain of your desires."

"Even if my decision is entirely wrong and ends up being a huge disaster? I sound mad just hearing myself saying this…" Emma finally allowed her gaze to meet that of the Navajo woman's, taking in the comforting wisdom that she found in those deep brown eyes even before she heard the words that Grandmother spoke.

"The only certain path to failure is to never try."

"I feel like I've just been lectured by Yoda," Emma chuckled as she sniffled back a tear.

"A wise little creature," Grandmother grinned, "but not as wise as my People." With those words, she released her grip on Emma's wrists and pulled the younger woman into a tight embrace. "Also, you should never underestimate the power of a hug."

* * *

There was no trace of the sun visible the next morning when Emma's alarm sounded at 6am. Outside the windows, she saw only darkness but she couldn't yet be sure if the inky skies were due to the weather or if it was simply still too early for the sun to have risen above the mountains. She threw the blanket off of her legs and swung them over the side of the couch as she twisted her neck to her right so she could get a look at her still-snoozing husband in the recliner next to her. Killian must have either been oblivious to the beeping alarm or was simply too tired to care.

As she forced her feet to the floor, Emma realized that the house was already filled with the aroma of both coffee brewing and something else – something sweet, yet savory. Obviously, Grandmother was already awake and preparing breakfast – a not at all surprising fact which had Emma smiling as she stretched her weary limbs. She finally willed herself to stand and took the two quick steps over to where Killian remained sound asleep and pressed a soft kiss against his forehead, partially as a morning greeting and partially to gauge how feverish he might be. She found his skin to still be warmer than it should be, but not yet near the dangerous levels he might reach once again before they made it home to Storybrooke. Clearly Grandmother's medicines were helping, but as they'd experienced before, they simply weren't strong enough to counteract such dark magic.

Emma carefully lifted a corner of the blanket to expose his bandaged torso, checking for any signs of recent hemorrhaging. Satisfied that she didn't find anything suspect, she replaced the blanket but not before he stirred.

"Is it morning, Love?" he asked her, eyelids still screwed shut and voice groggy with sleep.

"It is, but it's really early," she replied. "Why don't you sleep a little longer?"

"No… it's fine. I'm awake…," he insisted as his blue eyes slowly opened, although she couldn't help but notice that they lacked their usual sparkle. He reached down over the side of the recliner feeling for the handle that would bring the chair upright but his fingertips weren't finding it. "Would you be so kind as to help me sit up? I can't reach the bloody handle that raises this chair…"

"Sure… hang on…" she told him as she stooped over to tug on the handle. "This will raise the back of the seat. Do you want to keep your legs raised though?"

"Could we please lower the footrest as well?" he asked, his eyes practically pleading with her to help him feel more normal.

"Okay," she responded. "You'll need to push down as I…" She stopped mid-sentence, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment as she realized what she'd said. How was he supposed to push the footrest down if he couldn't move his legs? "I'm so sorry, Killian… I shouldn't have said that…"

"It's alright," he assured her as his lips curled into a forgiving smile. "Let me try… It's been a couple of days… Perhaps some of the inflammation has diminished?" He swallowed hard and pulled in a deep breath, holding it in for a few seconds as he squeezed his eyes shut to concentrate on the movement, fully expecting that he would fail – and that it would likely be a painful exercise in futility. He exhaled slowly as his brain struggled to instruct the muscles in his legs to push down against the footrest, wincing through the discomfort as he managed to shift the position of his sock-covered right foot slightly, but nowhere near enough to lower the footrest.

It was a small victory though – he had managed a little bit of movement. Emma's face was illuminated with a beaming smile as she recognized the significance of that tiny, but important success.

"You moved your foot!" she exclaimed. "I mean, you still won't be able to hike up that mountain on your own accord, but this is great! It means there's no permanent nerve damage from the broken dagger."

"Aye, Love," he grinned, proud of his seemingly minor accomplishment as Emma propped her own toes up on a corner of the footrest and used her own leg to push it downward, grimacing as it snapped into place and jostled Killian's weakened limbs.

"Sorry… that was a little abrupt, wasn't it?"

"It's fine," he assured her while drawing his arms tightly across his chest, fighting through the renewed discomfort. "Just give me a few moments…" He allowed the blanket to slip away from his chest and pool at his waist just before an entirely new realization struck – one that would require his wife's assistance yet again. "Emma, Love, would you be able to assist with getting me to that wheeled chair?"

"Of course," she replied, although her eyebrows knitted together in confusion as to why he would want to get into the wheelchair. "But can I ask why?"

"I believe that the polite explanation would be that I need to answer Nature's call…" he explained without even the slightest trace of the typical Killian Jones innuendo.

"Oh…" Emma's cheeks flushed yet again as she chided herself for not thinking that her husband would need to use the bathroom at some point. "Hold on a minute…"

For a fleeting moment, there was a flash of normalcy and that was what she chose to cling to – the belief that their lives would return to domestic bliss. Well, at least whatever reality passed for domestic bliss amidst the insanity of Storybrooke. It was enough to keep her moving forward, taking Grandmother's words to heart and making herself a promise. She was not going to fail. She was going to get them home.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to make the most of some free time while waiting for a pinched nerve in my neck to heal and since I haven't been able to do too much else, I used that time to do some writing. Part one of my latest short story was posted yesterday and today, it's time for this tale to get a much needed update as well! We left off with our team making preparations for the hike into the mountains and now, the time has come. Will Emma find what she's seeking when they reach the cavern? Hope you enjoy this latest installment!

They drove east, towards the rising sun, in near silence, Carlos at the wheel with Grandmother sitting anxiously by his side, clutching tightly to her backpack. Emma rode in the back seat with Killian's head slumped against her shoulder. As they gained elevation, Emma stared out of the rear window of the SUV at the silvery-orange glow made by the fading lights of the Phoenix metroplex against the low-hung storm clouds. The storm would be upon them soon and while it was making Grandmother nervous, it was precisely what Emma was counting on.

By the time Carlos made the turn off of Highway 60 to begin their ascent into the mountains, the peaks rose before them in silhouette, haze obscuring the morning sunlight. The patter of raindrops began to strike the windshield as Carlos eased the SUV off of the dirt and gravel service road about a half an hour later in a desolate section of Lost Dutchman State Park. The precipitation was light now, but heavier thunderstorms were forecast for later that morning, highly unusual for this time of year in Arizona, but Grandmother sensed a decidedly supernatural influence affecting the weather. She had long feared these storms. No Navajo wanted to be caught unprepared in a lightning storm, yet her young friend was certain that the fury of the storm would help boost the land's natural magic. So, while Grandmother remained leery of the storm, she'd waited her entire, long life to witness the manifestation of magic and there was no way she'd miss out on this.

Emma clung tightly to Killian who had fallen asleep about halfway into their trip up the mountain. He felt warmer than when they'd left Grandmother's mobile home and there was no doubt now that the influence of the dark magic was strengthening. They knew it was a huge risk coming out here in the first place, but now, the states were even higher and even though Killian had regained some movement, he still wasn't going to be able to hike out to the cavern that Carlos had described. Their Park Ranger friend had assured them that he had a way to transport Killian up the mountain since a wheelchair would be useless in this terrain.

So now, as the vehicle came to a stop, Killian shifted slightly in his sleep, causing Emma to instinctively draw him in even tighter to herself, her fingers inadvertently coming in contact with the cold steel of his hook. She pulled her hand away abruptly, the coolness of the steel such a sharp contrast to the warmth of his skin. Just a little while longer, she reminded herself as she willed him to hang on. As soon as she opened that portal, help would be waiting right on the other side. She'd already made arrangements with Regina to have Dr. Whale and an ambulance prepped and ready to go. The only thing she couldn't control was the exact timing and the precise location they'd end up in so the crew in Storybrooke might be waiting around a while.

"This is as far as we can go by car," Carlos announced as he slid the gearshift into Park and turned off the engine. "The cave is about a mile and a half northeast of here. The terrain is gonna be a little rough, but it's passable as long as the harder rain holds off a while."

"What about Killian?" Emma asked, still uncertain what the Ranger had planned. "We can't exactly carry him that far…"

"Don't worry," Carlos insisted. "As I've said before, I've got that covered." He had already clambered out of the driver's seat, making his way around to the back of the SUV to raise the rear hatch. Emma couldn't make out what he was digging out, but she watched as he maneuvered a few items around to uncover something that had been wedged diagonally across the rear storage compartment and shoved partially under the rear seat of the oversized SUV. He made his way back around the side of the vehicle where Killian was seated dragging some sort of metal contraption that looked a bit like a basket she'd seen helicopter rescue teams use, yet not quite the same.

"What the hell is that?" Emma queried as Carlos tugged the rear door open.

"Just the product of a little Native ingenuity," Carlos responded with a wide smile. "There are so many places out here that are difficult to access and sometimes, it's even hard to find a place for a rescue chopper to land in an emergency, so my squad devised a slightly modified rescue transport for use in those inaccessible places. It's basically a re-purposed basket from one of those helicopters, redesigned for use on land. We took the basket and covered it with surfboard foam to help minimize the impact then we added a harness that's worn by the rescuer. It uses the rescuer's upper body strength to drag the victim to a safe location where a chopper can land."

Emma looked over the contraption as Carlos placed it flat on the ground next to the vehicle and began unfastening the safety straps and unfurling the harness. "That's ingenious," she replied, impressed by the thought that had been put into this device's creation, although she wasn't certain how Killian was going to react to actually laying in the modified basket.

"It won't work well if it gets too muddy though," Carlos warned, "so we'd better get moving…"

With a couple of gentle nudges, Emma roused her husband from his slumber and explained briefly how they intended to bring him up the rest of the trail. While Killian wasn't exactly keen on being strapped into a narrow, foam-encased basket to be dragged like a plow, he recognized that he had little choice in the matter. Emma wasn't going to leave without him and his best chance to survive was to be with his wife when she opened the portal and return to Storybrooke. With no way to permanently remove the dark magic welling within him here in Phoenix, he had little chance of getting well unless he made it home.

Not knowing what else they might encounter in this wilderness, Emma tucked her service weapon into its holster at her hip. Magic or no magic, it would take down a predator if necessary. She hoisted the backpack onto her shoulder as she tried to ignore Killian's grumbles of protest while Carlos fastened the nylon straps across Killian's thighs, waist and shoulders. In deference to the injury, Carlos left the strap that would have crossed Killian's wounded chest unfastened, but tucked the ends at his friend's side so they wouldn't drag. Carlos then donned the vest-like harness that attached to the basket via four webbed nylon straps while Grandmother tentatively exited the SUV and slung her own pack onto her back.

They were well stocked with supplies – water canteens, nonperishable food and a supply of Grandmother's herbal remedies tucked into a traditional first aid kit. In the event Emma wasn't able to open a portal home, they needed enough provisions to make it back to the city – a prospect that Emma was trying hard not to contemplate as she placed one of the packs between Killian's feet on the "sled", the term Carlos used in reference to his modified rescue basket.

"We'll be home soon," Emma promised him as she pressed a kiss into Killian's rain-dampened forehead.

"I know, Swan," he replied with a pained smirk. "I'm certain you'll get us home."

"And Regina promised that help would be waiting there for us."

"Aye, Love," Killian smiled up at her, the melancholy in his normally bright blue eyes belying the forced nature of his obviously forced façade. He was trying hard to remain hopeful for her sake as much as she was attempting to remain positive for his, even though neither remained entirely convinced.

* * *

The ascent toward the cavern progressed far slower than Carlos' solo trip the previous morning. He was managing the additional exertion of towing the sled far better than Killian was faring though. The uneven, rocky trail was agonizing to Killian, every bounce sending shockwaves of pain through his chest. He was battling to remain conscious, gritting his teeth and doing his best to anticipate the bumps, but he was failing miserably at the latter.

With additional breaks necessary, the hike took a little over an hour, but Carlos' pace quickened as they neared the site of the cave. The rain was beginning to fall steadier now with rumblings of thunder off in the distance hinting at what was to come so they needed to find someplace safe, away from the elements. Grandmother had noticed a rock outcrop with a protective overhang not far from the cavern they sought which would allow them some shelter while Emma and Carlos scouted the cave. Carlos shed the harness as he tugged the sled into the still dry sand beneath the overhang and then directed Emma to a spot further up the trail where the cavern would be found. He and Emma then headed off in that direction, hoping to reach the spot before the deluge began, leaving Grandmother to tend to the aching Killian.

The old woman knelt beside the basket, unfastening all of the straps before extending her hand to help her injured young friend sit up. Killian couldn't help but find it somewhat ironic that he was struggling to catch his breath after no real exertion on his part while Grandmother was barely winded from the strenuous hike. It seemed as though there was more to admire about this wily old woman at every turn, he thought as he watched her shrug off her backpack to retrieve the modified first aid kit. She located it quickly and wasted no time snapping it open, rifling through the contents to find herbs to help ease Killian's scarcely veiled pain. At last, she withdrew a tiny, circular pouch tied with a bright orange scrap of yarn along with one of the water canteens.

"Here," she began as she untied the yarn and thrust her fingers inside the pouch, withdrawing a pinch of the crushed herbs and spices that she offered her patient. "This will help with the pain. Normally, I would brew it into a tea, but we've neither the time, nor the facilities…" She pushed open his painfully clenched fist and placed the portion of herbs into his palm. "It's a tad bitter. You'll likely taste the clove and the turmeric, so I'd recommend swallowing it all quickly. I'll hold the canteen so you can wash it down with some water."

Killian managed a half-smile as he brought his trembling hand to his mouth and tipped the mixture onto his tongue, features contorting involuntarily as the noxious substance hit his taste buds. He forced it down as best he could while the old woman chuckled before unscrewing the cap from the canteen and bringing the welcome relief of water to his lips - before the bitter medicine triggered his gag reflexes. He gulped down two mouthfuls of water in attempt to rinse away the taste, but had to stop himself when he nearly choked from swallowing too fast.

"Bloody hell," he barked once he felt he could breathe again. "If I didn't know better, I would swear that you were trying to poison me!"

"Perhaps poison would taste better," Grandmother teased as she replaced the canteen's lid and stowed it away inside her pack. "Let's get you out of that basket and further under the rock before the lightning hits. No use tempting fate…"

"Aye," Killian agreed, bracing himself for what this would entail. Grandmother crawled around behind him, holding the sled steady as he shifted his weight to the right, against the side rail, so that the basket would tip enough for him to slide his backside onto the ground. Once he was seated on the sandy dirt, Grandmother slid the basket out from beneath his legs. He paused for a moment to catch his breath while the old woman stood up and walked around to his left side and then wrapped her aged fingers around his left bicep.

"Push with your right arm as I pull. We need to make it about two feet further to be safe from the coming storms." Her explanation of what they needed to do wasn't going to make the process any easier. He drew back his right leg as best he could, planting his heel into the sand and hoping for some leverage, assuming he could get his leg to comply and push backward at the same time. It took a couple of tries as Grandmother didn't quite have the strength that Carlos or even Emma possessed, but the old woman surprised him. "Good," Grandmother stated, praising both of their efforts. "Now, rest a bit."

Killian certainly wasn't about to argue with her. While it seemed to have been only minimal effort on his part, moving just that span of inches rendered him exhausted. He leaned his back into the rock wall behind him, drawing his fingers through his rain-dampened dark locks as he struggled to end the burning in his lungs. "Thank you," he said at last, but the old woman shrugged it off.

"No thanks are necessary," she replied as she lowered her weary bones to the ground at his right. "Not many of my generation have lived to witness a childhood dream come to pass. I've spent a lifetime awaiting the appearance of the white witch and as this fantastical story progresses, at times, I feel I should be thanking you."

Killian chuffed at the thought of that. "You've seen nothing yet," he laughed, forgetting for a moment how uncomfortable his chest would feel later, but Grandmother was all business.

"Rest," was her simple order and he didn't dare disobey.

* * *

"This is the cave I was telling you about," Carlos announced as he and Emma approached the narrow opening in the mountainside. "I mean, its really just a crack, but the glyphs carved inside here are some of the best preserved in all of the Southwest." Emma reserved judgement for the moment, sweeping her flashlight's beam around the interior before stepping inside, mainly to ensure that they didn't have any critter company. When her light caught the wall that Carlos had raved about, she immediately understood why he took such pride in this. The ancient carvings covered the entire wall, telling a story that time had long forgotten but yet it still resonated with her, perhaps a reminder of her own storybook heritage.

"Wow," was the only word she could manage as she studied the glyphs, instantly recognizing the ones that adorned the dagger's handle. "Any idea what all of this is supposed to say?"

"Unfortunately, no one from any of our People really knows, and as you can see, the panel isn't complete. You can see there on the end where the cavern narrows that portions have eroded and some have even fallen away," Carlos explained as he pointed at the rubble piled at the bottom of the petroglyph wall. "And there's also been additional damage from too many overzealous visitors over the years which is why we decided to close this trail off so we could preserve this piece of history. So little remains of what my ancestors recorded that we have to try and preserve every bit that we can."

"Of course," Emma smiled, even though Carlos wouldn't be able to see her face in the dim light of the cavern. "This was their story, and it's also your story."

"Exactly. I just wish that I could read the message they left behind," he lamented, his own flashlight also focused on the glyphs, aimed directly at the swirl one they believed referenced a portal. "They were trying to tell us something about their lives, and somehow, that swirly thing you call a portal was important enough to be the center of all of this."

"Well, if they did have access to a portal that allowed them to travel periodically to another realm, maybe even multiple realms, I can understand why it would be an important part of their lives, but it doesn't explain why that knowledge was lost."

"If I had to take a guess, it was probably because my People lost their belief in magic, in gods and in everything supernatural that had once been such a huge part of our culture. We became as cynical as everyone else instead of clinging to what made us special…" He paused for a moment to contemplate the words that had just rolled off of his tongue, but Emma picked up on why he'd stopped himself.

"For a moment there, I thought I was listening to Grandmother," Emma commented on his heartfelt reply.

"Maybe you were," he chuckled. "I think I was channeling her there for a second, but honestly, maybe it just finally clicked. Maybe I finally understand what she's been trying to tell me all of these years…"

"Believing in magic is sometimes a hard thing to accept," she stated, recalling her own experience.

"So, on the subject of magic – is it here? Can you feel it here? Is it something you can see or touch?"

"There's something here," she replied, beginning to feel a familiar tingle beneath her skin. "I'll need the storm to strengthen a bit more though so I can draw from it as well, but to answer your question, yes – there's definitely magic in this land, but it isn't anything you can see or touch. It was explained to me once as an emotion, or rather an extension of emotion. You just have to feel it to know it's there."

"So, what are you going to need to open up that portal?"

"First, I need a place to fuse the pieces of the dagger back together. I need somewhere that's preferably flat and not flammable because I'm going to try to redirect some of that lightning to do it. Later, I'll have to summon a lot more power from the storm to actually open up the portal…"

"I'm guessing we're going to need to be outside in the rain to do that, huh?"

"Afraid so. Your ancestors may have told their story of their experience with the portal on this cave wall, but I don't think they actually opened it in here." Exiting back out onto the trail, Emma's eyes drifted upward, scrutinizing the darkening clouds. "Do you know of a flat rock surface anywhere close to here?"

"Yeah, there's an outcrop of boulders a little further up the trail, maybe a hundred yards from here. Come on, I'll show you…"

Sure enough, a pair of mostly flat boulders lay ahead, just off the well-trodden path. The surface would work perfectly for her needs, Emma thought as she lowered her backpack onto the ground, crouching to remove both the bubble wrapped dagger and the plastic specimen jar from the hospital that contained the severed tip. Taking care not to cut herself, she unwrapped the ornate knife and placed it atop the wet surface of the boulder. She then unscrewed the lid from the tiny jar and tipped the metal triangle onto the rock next to the dagger, aligning the broken piece to match the jagged break on the blade.

"Okay," she began, pushing herself upright and brushing her soggy blonde locks away from her face. She took a deep breath as she was suddenly reminded of when she'd unified another set of blades... "Sorry, this is bringing back some not so pleasant memories… Let me try to concentrate…"

Carlos hung back a few steps from the boulders as Emma tried to clear her thoughts and focus only on her magic. She'd long known how much her own powers were tied to her emotions and right now, they were all over the place. She ignored the raindrops crashing atop her head as she raised her right hand and positioned it directly above the blade with her fingers spread wide, now feeling the familiar warmth building. The Park Ranger who'd known her only a few days watched in amazement as Emma's palm began to glow with a brilliant gilded white light, far brighter than the beam of his flashlight and maybe as bright as the flash of lightning that illuminated the western sky. He didn't dare look away as he noticed that the tip of the dagger was now glowing as well and there were sparks flickering as the piece drew closer to the blade it had once been a part of. He jumped back a step as a bolt of light shot up from the ground, followed by a deafening clap of thunder that even had Emma leaping away to avoid being struck, but as the light faded and their eyes fell upon the boulder's surface, the dagger's blade was once again intact.

"Holy sh…!" Carlos started to exclaim, but he immediately censored himself, returning to stunned silence at what he'd just witnessed. He'd never in is life imagined seeing real magic, not those parlor tricks performed by men in dark suits pulling rabbits out of hats. What he'd just seen was nothing like that and he found himself glancing back and forth between Emma and the repaired dagger as she tentatively touched the handle to see if it was safe to retrieve. "That was so not what I expected…"

"Didn't go quite as I expected either," she admitted as she wrapped her fingers around the handle and raised the dagger to get a better look at the re-formed blade. "Now, let's get back to Killian and Grandmother and see if we can get this thing to open that portal." Swinging her pack back up onto her shoulder, Emma admired the blade with a glint of pride in her eyes. She'd been able to summon the magic necessary to re-form this blade so she sure as hell could do the same to open up that damned portal.

But that proud moment didn't last long as a distant cry echoed off of the mountain just as another thundering blast came from above.

"That was Grandmother's voice!" Carlos shouted anxiously. "Something's wrong…" Emma tucked the dagger away and drew her weapon, unsure of what sort of predator awaited them as they sprinted toward the overhanging rock where they'd separated, running as quickly as the rain-slickened earth would allow.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I left this story on a huge cliffhanger earlier this week, I decided that since I already had this chapter written, I'd go ahead and give a double update! The sad part is that this story is now down to the final few chapters. I'm hoping to finish this tale by the end of 2018 and I really want to thank everyone who's been following and leaving such wonderful comments! Now, enjoy the next installment!

Killian's eyes may have been closed, but he wasn't sleeping. He was conscious enough to have heard the crunching of gravel beneath a heavy boot and still savvy enough to recognize that the noise had originated from the opposite direction that Emma and Carlos had traveled. Someone was approaching and both he and Grandmother were essentially unarmed. He did have his hook at the ready, but in his fever-weakened state, it was hardly as useful as his cutlass or Emma's pistol. He threw open his eyelids to spot his elder companion scanning the low brush and chaparral surrounding them, having heard the same noise and seeking its origin.

"Who's there?" Grandmother demanded, her voice stern and unwavering.

"Well, what do we have here?" a deep voice responded, a taunting laugh resonating with his words. The speaker remained obscured by the scrub brush, but Killian already knew the voice. "Tough little, old Indian lady and an even older pirate who's seen far better days?" Kronk mocked them as he stepped into view, ducking under the rock ledge to escape the torrential rain.

"How the bloody hell did you find us?" Killian asked, clinging to as much bravado as he could muster.

"I had to put a few things together after speaking to your lovely wife," Kronk began as he shook some of the excess rainwater off of his clothing, showering Killian with the castoff droplets. "Your wife really shouldn't have left that box behind in your hospital room… Seeing the Ranger's name on the label made sense. I'd already figured that you'd had help getting off of that mountainside, but I had to think for a while about what you would have needed shipped to you from back home. Then, it finally dawned on me that somebody had figured out that the dagger was what opened up the portal which brought us all here. I took a wild guess that your wife might try to open up the portal again, this being the last day of the blood moon cycle after all, but there's still the little matter of the missing piece. The dagger won't work unless it's whole so even though you somehow managed to find the right location on this mountain, she can't open it. So, why don't you just save me some time and tell me where Emma and that broken piece are so I can get the hell off of this mountain again."

"I'm not telling you anything, Mate," Killian spat back as Kronk took another step closer. "Emma's not going to willingly hand anything over to you."

"I don't need you to tell me," Kronk replied, shooting a wicked smirk towards Killian before setting his sights on Grandmother, taking another menacing step towards her. "I'll bet I can get the Indian to talk…"

"I am a child of the Navajo Nation," Grandmother stated defiantly. "My people are not from India."

Kronk was pleasantly surprised by the old woman's bold response, enough that he took his eye off of the pirate just long enough for Killian to concentrate all of his remaining strength into thrusting his leg out into Kronk's path just as his opponent closed the distance between himself and Grandmother. The toe of Killian's boot caught Kronk's shin, enough to make him stumble, but not enough to bring down the burly man.

"Keep away from her!" Killian snarled, needing Kronk to back off long enough for Emma and Carlos to return. How long did it take to magically fuse a blade anyway?"

"You think you can fight me now?" Kronk laughed, unfazed by Killian's words or actions. "You haven't even the strength to stand, let alone fight! You had to be dragged out here, so why should I think you're any manner of threat?"

"I suggest you sod off before Emma returns," Killian warned, although it was becoming obvious that his posturing was waning. "She does have magic that she can harness here…"

"Oh, I'm counting on that," Kronk stated with a sickening grin – a split-second before lashing out with his boot to kick the pirate solidly in the rib cage. The impact propelled Killian's already impaired form into the rock face, his head and back striking heavily before he crumpled to the sandy earth, gasping for breath and rapidly succumbing to unconsciousness.

"Emma! Carlos!" Grandmother cried out as Kronk's attention returned to her. Unarmed, she'd be no match for the hulking figure before her.

"Now, about my dagger…" Kronk sneered as he reached the elderly woman in three long strides, but as he raised his arm to strike her, a single gunshot rang out, sending a puff of sand swirling into the air just inches from his foot. He froze, his eyes lifting to scan the horizon for the source of the shot.

"Next one won't be a warning," Emma snarled as Kronk's position shifted to meet her steely gaze, the old woman next to him now forgotten as he stared down the blonde sheriff. Carlos rushed to Grandmother's side, shielding her from Kronk, but she pushed her way around her grandson, more concerned for Killian's welfare than her own. With Kronk no longer barreling towards her, Grandmother hurried to her patient's side, fearing the additional damage that Kronk may have just inflicted.

Keeping the barrel of her weapon trained on the threat before her, Emma allowed her sight to drift from Kronk for just a moment, straining to get a better look at the slumped, unmoving body of her husband. He lay curled in a fetal position, his back against the rocks, and even from her position, Emma could see the dark stain that had formed across the front of his midnight blue shirt. Her mind tried to excuse it as simply rainwater from their hike up here or sweat from his fever, but her heart wouldn't be convinced, especially when she could see the trickle of blood that was streaming across his left ear onto his cheek.

"What did you do to him?" Emma demanded, gesturing at Kronk with the gun barrel, directing him away from her husband and their friends.

"He got in my way – as you are now," Kronk responded, making no effort to step aside and showing little fear of the weapon aimed at him.

"This beast kicked him," Grandmother informed Emma as her skilled hands examined Killian's wounds. "The impact has reopened several of the sutures and when he struck the rock, he cut open his scalp."

"As I said, he was in my way," Kronk repeated defiantly, "and he wouldn't tell me where I could find my dagger. I suppose it would be because you have it?"

"You mean this dagger?" Emma crouched and withdrew the blade that she'd hastily tucked into the cuff of her boot before hurrying back down the trail from the cavern. Kronk's eyes grew wide as he took in the sight of the repaired blade that she held up with her left hand, no longer even caring that she still held a pistol in her right.

"Ah, that would be the one. Does it still bear traces of your husband's blood on the blade?" Kronk taunted, trying to incite her anger, but despite a piercing glare from her steeled green eyes, she didn't break her composure. "So nice to see that you've already managed to repair it for me…"

"For you?" Emma laughed at him, her tone decidedly sarcastic, not the least bit jovial. "You aren't going to lay a hand on this dagger again, Kronk. We figured it out - why you were looking for us. You were searching for the missing piece."

"I have to admit that I didn't expect the point would shear off so easily upon striking bone, but what can one really expect from a blade that was forged hundreds of years ago?" Kronk raised his arms in a shrug to only further incense Emma. "You can just hand it over to me and I'll be on my way…"

"Do you fail to notice that you're the one at gunpoint here?" Emma reminded him, barely flinching as a flash of lightning illuminated the overcast skies. "Step aside so I can open up the portal. I'll let you return to Storybrooke with us, but you're going to face attempted murder charges."

"I have absolutely no intention of returning to that irritating little town of yours," Kronk insisted. "I have far bigger plans once I reach my intended destination."

"Like what?" Emma asked her quarry as she inched closer to him, desperately wanting to get a better look at what was happening with Killian, but she didn't dare take her eyes off of Kronk. "Are you crazy enough to think that the portal will take you back to your time?"

"My time?" Kronk scoffed. "Why on earth would I want to go back there? I jumped at the most ridiculous proposition I had ever heard long ago so I could get away from that place! I believed an old man's crazy story about a fancy knife he'd found buried in some cave way out in the Arizona desert that he claimed could transport someone to a land of untold riches…"

"What in the hell are you rambling on about?" Emma wondered. "You're going on like you found the gateway to El Dorado or something…"

"That's because I did," was Kronk's surprising reply. "I mean, it wasn't exactly El Dorado or Shangri La as the legends might imply, but it may as well have been. That's where I intend to return, and now, with the Warden gone, it shouldn't be difficult at all to attain a position of leadership…"

His use of the term  _Warden_  had the gears inside Emma's brain turning in overdrive…  _Where had she heard that term before? And he was gone…?_  "Oh my god, you're trying to get back to the Land of Untold Stories?" she blurted out in stunned realization.

"It was the Land of Plenty to us," Kronk corrected her, still patiently watching and waiting for a chance to disarm the Sheriff and relieve her of the dagger. "That's how it was described to me so many years ago in an Arizona Territory saloon by an old man everyone though mad. He barely spoke a word of English and so few out here in this godforsaken land spoke German so no one understood what he was trying to tell them..."

"But you could?"

"My parents emigrated from Germany and Austria and I grew up speaking German at home and English at school so yes, I understood his tale about a magic dagger. He'd come into town periodically carrying large gold nuggets that people around here thought were evidence of a mine hidden somewhere in these desolate mountains, but what he'd really stumbled upon was so much better." Kronk paused a moment trying to decide how much more of his story he should tell, but the longer he talked, the more likely she was to let her guard down. "That old man had found a key to another world – one with abundant riches, including veins of pure gold filling the verdant hillsides, but every time he traveled there, he'd return to find that weeks, sometimes months, had passed here. He tried to live a normal life here on what treasure he'd brought back with him, but after a few years, he grew tired of the desert and desired to return. He just couldn't remember where the gateway was so he spent several more years trying to find his way back to that cave, mapping out his search area until he found it at last."

"That's a great story, Kronk, but you're really just wasting my time. I need you to just stand down so I can get that portal opened because, I swear, if my husband dies, you'll wish you had too."

"We'll see," Kronk said, sensing an opening as Emma's sight drifted once again to her injured husband so he suddenly charged at her, knocking Emma to the ground. Both the dagger and her gun went flying, his momentum sending him tumbling over top of her. Kronk clambered to his feet, recovering faster from the collision than she did as she sat up, searching for the two items she'd lost hold of. A flash of lightning glinted off the blade of the dagger, half buried in a muddy puddle to her left and about ten feet from Kronk's position. No way she was going to let him get there first.

She stumbled to her knees and raised her hands, summoning all of the energy she could, both from the storm and from her own inner emotional turmoil and as the next bolt of lightning descended from the heavens, an equally bright ball of light blasted from her fingertips, knocking Kronk onto his rear. Kronk practically snorted at her unimpressive magical outburst, pushing himself back upright and lunging toward the dagger. Emma had reclaimed the upper hand though and easily blasted the blade away from his reach, the dagger landing next to Carlos.

"Impressive," Kronk jeered, remaining undaunted by Emma's display of magical prowess.

"I'm just getting warmed up, buddy," she hissed back at him.

With the dagger inches from his fingertips, Carlos glanced over at Grandmother for validation, as if he needed her permission to touch it. She nodded and mouthed the single word "Go" before he snatched it up while she returned to her task of applying pressure to Killian's wounds, her own fingers already slick with the pirate's blood. Seeing the artifact back in friendly hands, Emma used one more blast of magical energy to send Kronk flying across the clearing, his momentum only ceasing when he collided with a towering, ancient cactus. They all could hear Kronk's screams as his back, arms and legs were impaled by dozens of razor-sharp spines, but none of them cared for his agony at the moment.

Ignoring Kronk's pleas for help, Emma scurried over to her husband who remained laying unconscious and bleeding beneath the overhang. Dropping to her knees at his side, she gingerly ghosted her fingertips across his temple, finding his skin unexpectedly cool and damp to the touch.

"He's not feverish…" Emma said, her voice shaking as the impact of her words set in. Killian wasn't feverish because his lifeforce was slowing slipping away as he bled. She thought for a moment that she could possibly amass enough energy to heal him, but then would she have enough in her to still open the portal? And if it didn't work? What if he was already too far gone?

"The spirits are calling to him," Grandmother stated solemnly. "You must do this now - before he decides to answer them."

"Here," Carlos said as he thrust the dagger's handle into Emma's hands. "How do you get this thing to work now?"

"It needs blood… a blood sacrifice on the blade. I don't know why it was designed that way, but it was," Emma rambled, her eyes falling to Killian's blood-soaked shirt. "I don't think Killian's will work again…"

Grandmother raised her hand slightly, but Carlos immediately pushed it back down. "You can use mine," he offered, rolling up his sleeve to bare the ruddy skin of his forearm.

"I can't ask you to do that," Emma responded, shaking her head as she prepared to draw the blade across her own palm.

"You're not asking – I'm volunteering," Carlos insisted, taking hold of Emma's wrist before she sliced open her own skin. "I've already witnessed you do some amazing things up here and now, I want to do my part to help."

"I'm not even sure this will work," she lamented, suddenly insecure of her own abilities.

"It will work," Carlos assured her with a broad smile. "I mean you've pulled off one minor miracle already – you got an old Navajo woman to venture up onto the side of a mountain in the middle of a thunderstorm. If you can get her past her superstitions about being struck by lightning, you can do anything."

There was no other choice, Emma reminded herself. Killian needed medical attention and absolutely would not survive another trip off of this mountain. Their friends and family back home were waiting there to help… "Alright, let's do this. This might hurt a bit, but as soon as we get back to Storybrooke, it'll be easily healed."

"Don't worry. I've got a pretty high pain tolerance," he assured her as he extended his forearm toward her, bracing himself as Emma drew the sharpened edge of the blade across his skin between his wrist and elbow. The newly incised wound open and oozing, she pressed the flat of the blade into the crimson flow, rotating it until both sides of the blade were completely saturated.

"Thank you," she said graciously as she pointed the blade to the sky so that the liquid could trickle onto the hilt then trail over it to reach the moon image carved into its handle. She expected the portal to open just as it had in Storybrooke, nearly immediately after Kronk had thrust this same blade into Killian's chest, but she grew increasingly anxious as nothing was happening. "What am I doing wrong?" she asked herself aloud. Maybe there wasn't enough magic left in her after her battle with Kronk? She couldn't stop her gaze from dropping to Killian's deathly still form on the ground before her. She had to do this, she told herself, letting the words echo through her head. She had to keep her promise to get them home.

She lifted her chin into the drenching rain, closing her eyes, even though that wasn't likely to stop the flow of tears – not that anyone would be able to spot them amidst the raindrops anyway. Her thoughts drifted back to the last time she'd held a dagger in the middle of a storm – the Dark One dagger – and she decided she needed to do exactly as she had then. She wrapped both hands around the handle as the rain began to wash the blood from the blade, sending dull, pinkish rivulets over her knuckles when she hoisted the blade over her head. Lightning crackled around her and thunder boomed in her ears as the blade began to glow with a bright orange light, not that Emma could see it, struggling to maintain her focus.

She also didn't see that behind her, Nehemiah Kronk had regained his composure. The huge man was still plucking cactus spines from his clothing, but he'd been coherent enough to realize that Emma's magic was activating the dagger's magic and he needed to get to it. Carlos saw Kronk make a move toward Emma and started crawling desperately through the muck to retrieve her lost weapon, shouting a warning to her as he scrambled for the gun. "Emma! Behind you!"

Kronk was nearly upon her as the lightning bolt struck, drawn in by the dagger itself, but instead of striking Emma down and electrocuting her, something incredibly unplanned occurred. A sphere born of pure energy formed around Emma and the others, repelling the advancing Kronk and dispersing the electrical charge in a protective field across the sphere. Carlos remained on his knees, frozen in stunned silence as he realized that not even the steady rain was penetrating the sphere. They were inside their own little magic bubble, but Emma didn't look entirely pleased as this wasn't what she had expected to conjure.

Emma's eyes lifted upward, focusing on the gathering storm clouds above them, her green eyes sparking with each crackle of lightning overhead. Her arms still held the dagger high, as if offering it as a tribute to unseen gods, a pose Carlos imagined the high priests of the Inca, the Maya or the Aztec may have taken after completing a sacrifice. It was both fascinating and frightening simultaneously but as the Ranger knelt in awe of Emma's stance, he realized that he could no longer tell if Killian was breathing or not. He instantly found himself praying to gods he hadn't even thought of since childhood, hoping fervently that the great thunder gods would spare his friend.

A few feet away, a bruised and battered Kronk sat up, shaking his dazed head as he studied the protective sphere that surrounded the Sheriff and the others. It sparked with energy and pulsed with light as bright as if it had been forged from the lightning itself. Whatever this force field was, it still was not a portal so he scanned the bubble for a potential opening that might allow him access to the dagger. He would find a way to return to his Land of Plenty. Hell, this wasn't even the greatest danger he'd faced over the years. Playing sidekick to Yzma had certainly put him on the receiving end of plenty of trouble and many painful repercussions, many of them at the hand of those loyal to the Warden, but more often due to Yzma's magical failures. He'd never really feared anything that hack of a sorceress conjured up so why fear anything the Savior Sheriff could do either?

As though she could sense his approach this time, Emma turned her attention to Kronk. "Don't come any closer, Kronk," she warned. "You'll only electrocute yourself."

"You think I never felt the Warden's taser?" Kronk replied. "This doesn't frighten me and I will still get that dagger so I can return to  _MY_  home."

"You can't, Kronk," Emma stated, shaking her head vigorously. "You can't go back to the Land of Untold Stories. It's not there anymore."

"Don't lie to me! The Warden is dead so he can't stop me from going back and neither can you!" Kronk shouted confidently.

"I swear to you – it's not a lie. Whatever deal Hyde struck with Rumplestiltskin, it brought everyone to Storybrooke and the Land of Untold Stories ceased to exist so there's no way you can't go back." Emma tried to reason with her adversary, but he simply wouldn't be convinced. "Think about it, Kronk – were you planning to return to Arizona? It certainly wasn't Killian's chosen destination. You opened the portal wanting to go back and it did bring you back – to where you started. Why else would you have ended up here?"

"It's all lies!" Kronk shouted as he barreled into the sphere preparing to be thrown back again by its power.

"Kronk, stop!" Emma cried as the protective sphere once again defended them from his assault only this time, a bolt of lightning shot down from the sky, striking the fortified bubble at the same time that Kronk made contact with it. He seemed to be suspended for a moment as the storm's power surged through his body, then he was released from the lightning's grip, dropping to the ground with an audible thud. And this time, he wouldn't get up.

Emma's emotions were swirling. She hadn't wanted to see Kronk electrocuted. She'd only wanted him to stand down so that she could get them home. She wasn't even entirely certain if he was dead, but she couldn't imagine him surviving that… Whatever his motives were, he should have just stopped…

But she didn't dwell on that thought for long because at that same moment, the electrical bubble that encircled them began to rotate.

"Emma, what the hell is going on?" Carlos wondered, hoping his friend might have some insight as to what exactly they were experiencing.

"I don't know," she replied honestly. The dagger clutched in her hand had begun to glow once again and she could now feel it heating up against her skin. She wanted to drop it, but it wouldn't allow her to release her grasp, her flesh searing as the bubble around them exploded outward and a familiar, swirling portal materialized before them. "There!" she cried out joyfully. "There's our way back to Storybrooke!"

Her energy nearly spent, Emma stumbled backward a step, but Carlos sprang to his feet to steady his friend before she fell. "Easy there," he said as he caught sight of her reddened, blistered hands. "Emma, did the dagger do that to you?"

"Yeah," she replied, relieved that she could finally unfurl her fingers from the dagger's handle. She grimaced as she tucked the blade back into her boot since they'd still need the dagger to remove the dark magic from Killian once they reached Storybrooke, but she had no desire to keep holding it, even if it wasn't burning her skin any longer.

"Let me see, child," Grandmother spoke up, turning her attention from aiding Killian long enough to glance at Emma's outstretched palms. The old woman motioned for Emma to move closer so she could get a better look while Carlos stared at the swirling vortex, trying to think of the best way to get Killian into it. Grandmother frowned as she inspected Emma's hands, but while she was concerned about the burns, they did have more pressing problems. "They appear to be first and second-degree burns. They'll be a bit painful, but right now, our first priority has to be getting you home – both of you. How long will the portal remain open?"

"With such unstable magic around here, I have no idea," Emma confessed, her gaze understandably drawn to her husband's unmoving body.

"Then we must go now," Grandmother insisted. "He is barely drawing shallow breaths. I'm worried that when Kronk kicked him, he did more than just re-open the existing wound."

"I don't think we'll have time to strap him back into the sled," Carlos stated as his eyes darted back and forth between the portal and his injured friend. "This isn't going to involve a lot of walking around, will it?" he asked Emma, entirely unsure of how portal travel would work.

His question caught her slightly off-guard, so Emma had to think for a moment before answering. "No..., there's no real walking involved at all… You just jump into that swirling hole and you end up somewhere else – hopefully in Storybrooke. Landings aren't always pretty, especially if you get dumped out onto concrete…"

"Well then, I only know one way that we're going to be able to do this…" Carlos stated as he stood over Killian, straddling the wounded man's legs. "I haven't done this since my training days, so please forgive me, my friend. This might be a little bumpy…" He leaned over and grasped Killian's right arm, tugging the unconscious pirate into a semi-upright position. He then wrapped both of his arms around Killian's torso and hoisted his friend's body upward until he could swing Killian's head and upper body onto his shoulder into a fireman's rescue carry.

Once he had Killian's motionless form properly balanced, Carlos strained every muscle in his back and legs to push himself into a standing position. "Can we go now?" Carlos stated, knees ready to buckle from the extra exertion but fearing that the vortex might close on them at any moment. "Lead the way, Emma…"

Sensing that Emma might need a little support, Grandmother hooked her elbow around Emma's arm as Carlos positioned himself behind them.

"Next stop, Storybrooke," Emma stated as she mustered the strength needed to leap forward, Grandmother's spry little frame keeping step with her. Carlos hesitated a moment as he watched the two women vanish into the vortex then set his composure and took that leap of faith himself - all the while reminding himself not to drop his unconscious friend. He had no idea how this thing worked or where the hell he was going to end up, but this was already one hell of an adventure.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems like an eternity since I posted the first chapter of this story, dropping Emma and Killian into the Arizona wilderness. Now, we’re down to the last two chapters and we pick up with Kronk defeated. They’ve got the portal to take them home, but will it be in time to save Killian?

"Are you sure we're in the right place?" a bored and still somewhat confused Dr. Victor Whale asked as he leaned against the rear bumper of the ambulance. He and two paramedics had been waiting here in the park for nearly an hour since Regina had summoned them - but they'd arrived to Storybrooke's largest park to find only a gathering of perfectly healthy people. Regina and Snow White had implored him to stay, but he was growing increasingly impatient. "I still don't see the medical emergency you were so adamant about, Madam Mayor."

Regina threw him a perturbed glare as she surveyed the expanse of park grounds herself, watching for any anomaly that would indicate a portal would soon open. This park had the largest open, grassy area in all of Storybrooke which was why it was the place she and Emma had agreed upon.

"Be patient for once, Victor. It's not like you have dozens of other medical emergencies to run off to. Emma might not have been able to get the dagger to work yet. Magic isn't as absolute as your science but they'll be here and Emma specifically stated that Hook would need medical attention. I mean, she can probably heal it all once she returns to Storybrooke's magic but just in case, I need you here, at the ready. The man was stabbed with a dagger that's almost as evil as the Dark One's after all."

"Seems to be a recurring problem," Whale quipped.

"And _I_ will be yours if you don't shut up and just get ready to do your job," a visibly tense David lashed out as he overheard the doctor's commentary about his son-in-law.

"David… didn't see you there…" Whale shrank back, slightly embarrassed that his statement had been heard. "I'll just wait over here until you need my services…"

"You do that," David snapped, turning his attention to Regina. "Anything look out of the ordinary to indicate the portal is about to open?"

"Not yet," Regina replied with a shake of her head, "but it's not always easy to tell when or where a portal might open. You know that, David. Don't worry, she'll get it."

"Emma sounded pretty worried on the phone. She said the fever was back, didn't she?"

"Yes, and you know that too. You heard the same conversation this morning that I did. As soon as they return with the dagger, I can use a spell to draw the dark magic back into the artifact. I'm quite sure that once he's no longer fighting against that darkness, Hook will make a full recovery from the stab wound."

"I hope you're right," David sighed as a gust of wind tousled his hair. "Funny, I don't remember the weather forecast mentioning wind for today…"

"It didn't," Regina smiled as she brushed her own dark locks away from her face, realizing that the sudden strong breeze could be the portal just as the vortex materialized in the middle of the open field. Emma stumbled out first alongside an elderly woman with long, braided white hair.

"Emma!" David cried at the sight of his daughter. He started running toward her as both women collapsed into the grass. A second or two behind them, a dark haired man tumbled out, losing his balance from the sudden impact with the ground and dropping a large bundle that he'd shouldered through the portal. David and Regina instantly realized that the bundle the man had been carrying was the wounded and seemingly unconscious Killian Jones.

Emma had warned that landings could be awkward when you reached the other side of a portal but Carlos hadn't thought to brace for such a sudden stop – especially when carrying the extra weight of his incapacitated friend. He did all he could to minimize Killian's impact, absorbing much of the blow himself as he collided with the largest expanse of real grass he'd ever seen. In a split-second, a blond-haired man was kneeling beside him, carefully lifting Killian's body and moving him to the side while paramedics rushed to the scene as well.

Carlos dusted himself off as he sat up, still slightly dazed and in awe of everything he'd just experienced. He started looking around to see what had become of Emma and Grandmother, turning his head to see the same blond-haired man who'd been kneeling beside him a moment ago now standing and extending his hand toward Carlos, offering to help him to his feet. "I'm David," the blond man announced as Carlos accepted the assistance. "You must be Carlos?"

"Carlos Littlecreek," he replied, shaking David's hand heartily once he was back on his feet. "Thanks for the hand, sir."

"You don't need to call me sir," David chuckled. "I owe you a ton of thanks and we'll definitely have to talk more later. Right now though, I need to check on my daughter and son-in-law." Carlos nodded in understanding as he watched the team of paramedics crouched above Killian, but when it suddenly kicked in that the man who'd helped him up was Emma's father, his jaw went slack. He'd just shook hands with a Prince?

Carlos couldn't see all of what was going on to his right. The paramedics had lifted Killian's limp body onto a gurney, positioned an oxygen mask onto his face and appeared to be attempting to get an IV line in but that was about all he could make out from his vantage point. He diverted his eyes away from the busy medics long enough to finally spot Emma who was being tightly embraced by (and fussed over by)her father and a tiny but fierce looking woman with short, dark hair. Snow White. He was staring at Snow White hugging her daughter. This was surreal…

Grandmother had stepped aside when Emma's parents hurried in to embrace her, but the elder woman knew that Emma's focus was singular. She pulled away from them, trying to reach her husband, only to be intercepted by another dark-haired woman, this one in a tailored business suit. Everyone seemed to be commenting on Emma's hands, undoubtedly concerned about the burns, but Emma kept shrugging off their worry. Looking on, Carlos couldn't help but stare as the brunette he hadn't yet identified hovered her own hands above Emma's burns, seeing the same glowing magic that Emma had used on the mountain. The frown on the brunette's face as the glow faded led him to believe that something hadn't worked as it was supposed to but Emma didn't seem fazed. She simply shook her head and passed the cursed dagger to the other woman then pushed her way over to the paramedics.

"How is he?" Emma asked breathlessly when she was finally allowed to reach her ailing husband's side. David stood next to her with his arm wrapped around her trembling shoulders.

"Not good," was Dr. Whale's blunt response. "His blood pressure is too low and his lungs don't sound good. Several of the sutures appear to be torn open and he's likely bleeding internally as well. Regina told me he was still suffering from the stab wound, but this looks more like blunt force trauma to his rib cage."

"Kronk kicked him in the chest," Emma explained.

"Then we may have a lung puncture here," Whale stated. "Regina, whatever it is you need to do, get it done because you're either going to have to heal him right now or I've got to get him into the ER soon."

"Fine," Regina replied, retrieving a small, glass potion bottle from her pocket. She flicked away the cork stopper and poured the contents of the vial over the surface of the blade. "This should allow me to draw that dark magic back to its source…" She held the blade a few inches above Killian's chest and they all looked on as curled wisps of a grey smoke-like substance were drawn toward the dagger. It didn't take long to pull all of the noxious mist away from Killian, but with his condition already so dire, it felt as though it had been an eternity. "Done. All of the darkness has been contained back inside the dagger. Emma, do you want to try to heal him first before Whale spirit's him off to the hospital?"

"I don't know, Regina," Emma spoke up. "Magic didn't heal the burns on my hands when you tried a moment ago… Maybe magic isn't able to heal wounds caused by magic?"

"I've never known it to be a problem before…" Regina replied, but Whale cut her off.

"Don't you think magic has done enough damage?" the doctor interrupted. "Let medicine take care of him from here…"

"It's a rare occasion that I have to say I agree with Whale," David said firmly. "Victor might not be my favorite person in this town, but I trust his abilities. Emma, you should go too and get those hands looked at. Those burns are really bad."

"Thank you, David," Whale responded with an unusual amount of humility as he accepted the prince's compliment. "We've got to go now though." The two paramedics already had the gurney raised and ready to load their patient in the waiting ambulance as Emma nodded her agreement. Enough magic for this day.

Moments after watching their friends be whisked away in the ambulance, Carlos and Grandmother found themselves standing alone in the middle of the grassy field, trying to take in all they could see of Emma and Killian's hometown. Grandmother first noticed how different the air smelled, inhaling the scents of grass and trees mixed with the salty sea air, all such a drastic contrast to the dry, dusty desert. On the horizon, dense forests of towering trees blanketed the hillsides, nothing like the scrub brush and chaparral dotting the Arizona mountains that Carlos patrolled. He had to drive further north to Flagstaff to find forests even remotely resembling these, and even those were mostly pine. The vistas were nearly as mesmerizing and magical as any of the supernatural events they'd witnessed this morning.

"So that's what magic looks like…" Carlos mused, accenting his words with a nervous chuckle.

"As I've long dreamed, the White Witch did bring magic back to our mountains," the old woman stated, a broad grin etched into her features while she patted her grandson on the shoulder.

"I'm so sorry I doubted you, Grandmother," he laughed. "That was one hell of a ride!"

"Indeed it was," she smiled. "Now, I suggest that you call your employer and let them know that you might not be in for a while."

"Yeah, I already gave them a head's up that I was going to be helping the couple I rescued get home. I just never did say how or for how long. I suppose I should also come up with a story about why the SUV is parked up in the mountains in case someone pings the GPS…"

"My apologies," a woman's voice sounded behind them. "Our town is normally much more welcoming to our guests, but this has been a rather unusual morning…" The Navajo pair turned around to find the brunette in the tailored pantsuit who had minutes ago removed the evil spirits from Killian's body. "I'm Regina Mills, Mayor of Storybrooke. I wanted to be the first to officially welcome you to our magical little town and I wanted to personally thank you for everything that you both did to help Emma and Hook, I mean Killian."

"It's alright," Carlos replied. "We've already been told a few of your real identities, _Your_ _Majesty_."

Regina flushed a bit as Carlos gave her a polite dip of his head. "I'm heading over to the hospital if you'd like to join me, or if you'd rather, I can drop you off to get something to eat first?"

"That is very kind of you, Ms. Mills," Grandmother replied with a gracious smile.

"Why is it that I feel as though we might have met somewhere before, Miss…?" Regina started her statement before realizing she hadn't been formally introduced.

"Sarah Bending Willow," Grandmother introduced herself, "and no, I don't believe we've met, unless you've been to Arizona at some point. But I have had many people tell me that I remind them of someone."

"That must be it," Regina replied, slightly embarrassed that she'd even asked. "Now, where were we? Oh, yes, I can drop you off somewhere to get lunch or you're welcome to ride along to the hospital. I just have to pick up my son first…"

"Their lunch is on me," David announced as he approached. He'd seen his family off to the hospital and now wanted to express his own gratitude. "It'll be a while before Emma and Hook are treated so we'd like to show you our thanks. We'd love to have you join us for lunch and we'll give you a little tour of our town."

"We would be honored," Grandmother accepted the offer. "I don't believe it would be polite to turn down a Prince, although the only real thanks we require is knowing that our friends are alright."

"Emma's tired and cranky, insisting that we don't need to worry about her and Hook's stable for the moment," David informed them. "We won't know much more for a while so there's no use in just sitting around here."

"Then we humbly accept your offer," Carlos stated. "I for one could use some food. Hiking up a mountain and then magically portaling across the country certainly builds up an appetite."

* * *

Emma's eyes flew open, going wide with fear as she struggled to remember where she was. The pungent smell of disinfectant filled her nostrils making her believe for a moment that she was back in the hospital in Mesa, but no, it was too quiet. No, they'd made it back to Storybrooke she reminded herself as she slowly came to the realization that she was lying on a hospital bed with a tan fabric curtain hanging on either side of her. She gradually remembered how much her hands hurt as she glanced down to see them lightly bandaged and then it all came back to her, except where Killian might be. The last thing she could recall was seeing him laying on the gurney in the ambulance with Dr. Whale fighting to keep him breathing, Killian's face deathly pale. If she was here in the hospital though, he had to be here as well.

"Hello?" Emma called out, hoping someone was nearby who could answer her questions or she'd just have to get up and go find the answers herself. "Is somebody there?" She knew Storybrooke's hospital wasn't near as busy as Mesa's, but it almost seemed too quiet and she was just a tiny bit jumpy when a hand appeared on the curtain to her right.

"Mom, you're awake," Henry smiled as he drew back the curtain, leading Emma to breathe a sigh of relief. "Oh, did I startle you? I'm sorry. The nurse gave you some medicine for the pain after they treated the burns and you fell asleep. They said you could stay here in the Emergency room until you woke up. Not like there's anyone else around…"

"It's okay, kid. How long was I asleep and where's Killian?"

"About an hour and a half and Killian's still in surgery…"

"That long? Where's everyone else?" Emma asked as she bolted upright. "Are they here too?"

"Mom, relax," Henry encouraged as he helped her off of the narrow bed, careful not to bump her scorched hands. "Mr. Littlecreek and Ms. Bending Willow are with Grandma and Grandpa getting the royal tour of Storybrooke."

"Remind me to give them a huge apology later," Emma lamented, but Henry was happy to see that there was a smirk on her face. "Is Regina with them too?"

"No, she dropped me off and stayed just long enough to get an update on both of your conditions. She wanted to get that dagger down to the vault and lock it away as soon as possible."

"Good idea," Emma agreed as the teen helped her out to the guest lounge around the corner where he'd been waiting for her to awaken.

"We can wait here for news on Killian," Henry insisted. "The couch is a lot more comfortable and since I was the only one here, the nurse let me have the TV remote." Emma dropped down onto the chocolate brown faux-leather sofa, trying as hard as she could not to use her hands. "You want a drink or something to eat? There's a vending machine around the corner or I can make a trip down to the cafeteria…"

"You know, kid, I could really go for a cup of coffee and chocolate – any kind of chocolate they have."

"Be right back!"

* * *

What little remained of her coffee had gone cold by the time she caught a glimpse of Victor Whale, still clad in his surgical scrubs, emerging from behind a set of double doors. She sprang to her feet, startling Henry who had dozed off on the opposite end of the sofa.

"Victor?" she called to him, not even caring that she was supposed to be quiet inside a hospital. After all, she was the Sheriff. Who were people going to go to with complaints?

"Emma," the doctor acknowledged her as he approached. "Glad to see you looking rested. You'll need to be mindful of those blisters, but your hands should heal up just fine. Thankfully for you, only a few spots were second degree…"

"I wasn't going to ask about my hands, Victor. Killian – how is he?"

"Critical at the moment, but he should make a full recovery. Getting the dark magic out of his system was a huge help, but that blow to his chest could have killed him."

"Because it reopened the sutures?" she asked, remembering the blood soaking through Killian's shirt.

"Among other things," Whale replied. "That kick caused some serious damage – a couple of cracked ribs, collapsed lung and a ruptured spleen. Seriously, how strong was the other guy? Anyway, I also had to put a dozen sutures into that gash on the back of his head. I don't know what exactly happened to you back in Arizona, but it's a damned miracle he's still breathing."

"I want to see him," she insisted.

"He'll be in recovery for a while, but we'll get him moved into a room as soon as possible."

"I want to see him now, Victor," she repeated, her tone unflinching.

"Emma, you know I can't let you in there…" Whale responded, perhaps a bit too confidently.

"And you know that I can find a new way to get you out of my way with just a simple flick of my wrist," she reminded him. "Can we make this easy on both of us?"

Whale set his jaw as he contemplated the options. "Fine, fine… Not like there are any other patients in there with him. You have five minutes, and it's just you. Sorry, Henry."

"It's okay," Henry replied. "Go ahead, Mom. I'll wait here and text everyone to let them know Killian's out of surgery."

"Thanks, kid." Emma wanted to give her son a huge hug or at least a pat on the back, but both of those might have to wait until her hands healed. "Be back in a few…"

* * *

For a fleeting moment, Emma was struck with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu as she stood at Killian's side. She knew they were home, that they were safe, but her mind was suddenly back in that Arizona recovery room, standing there lonely and filled with trepidation. They'd been separated by curses, thrown into different realms and were even torn apart by death yet she'd ever felt as helpless as she'd been standing at his bedside without the ability to heal his wounds and ease his pain. Even now, there was still a trace of that anguish eating away at her. Now, she possessed the power to heal him with a wave of her slightly-scorched hand but after days fighting to survive complications brought on by magic, she knew Killian would agree that enough was enough. He'd rather suffer the pain of a lengthy recovery than pay the price later for a magical quick fix.

Whale had advised her not to touch Killian, but Emma had never been one to listen, using her fingertips to trace the hollow of his cheek, the angle of his neck and jawline while being mindful of the web of tubes and wires surrounding him. She wanted desperately to squeeze his hand and let him know she was right here with him, but decided against that thought when even a little minor movement of her fingers reminded her of her own discomfort. Instead, she settled on pressing her lips to his forehead, ghosting tiny kisses along his temple until a single teardrop fell from her eye, dropping onto his cheekbone before trailing off into his hairline.

"We're home, Killian," she whispered, not even caring whether he could hear her or not. "We're back in Storybrooke and Victor got you all patched up again. Everyone's just waiting for you to wake up and we'll tell you the whole story. We'll get you through this and I promise, we'll do it without any more magic, unless of course, you decide otherwise…" She gently pulled up the cream colored blanket to cover his bandaged chest, not wanting him to be chilly. "Whale won't let me stay in here long but I needed to let you know, the dark magic is gone. Now, the rest is up to you."


End file.
